Spirit of Fire
by Arandil
Summary: Creator of Silmarils and Kinslayer, but also Husband and Father. How did this brightest jewel among Elves end up following such a tragic path? The life of Curufinwë Fëanáro through the eyes of his wife.
1. Prologue

_"I feel him stir within me." _

_Finwë gazed fondly at his wife as he placed his hand on her protruding stomach. "Is he always this active?" he asked with a smile. _

_Míriel__ nodded and leaned in to rest her head on her husband's shoulder. "I shall call him 'Fëanáro.' _

_"Spirit of fire?"__ Finwë asked, pulling away from his wife and raising an eyebrow. "What do you foresee for him?" _

_Míriel held his gaze for a moment before answering. "Great shall be his deeds." _

_Finwë beamed proudly and hugged her to him, not noticing the briefest shadow pass across her face._

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**P R O L O G U E**

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What is evil?

The great scholars of any time could lay hours, years, _centuries_ to waste discussing the nuances of behaviour and thought that constitute evil. But I know evil. I have seen its vile influence first hand. Some might even say I married evil, but they are wrong.

My husband…

No, he was not evil. Fell were his deeds at the end, and there is naught I can say to defend them, but his heart was not black. No, not black, but fiery and passionate, the very qualities that brought about his downfall; for passion leads to obsession and obsession to madness, at least in this case. That is my only explanation, what I hold onto as the lonely silent years of my life pass away.

Yes, he was passionate. Above all else, he was passionate; about _everything_. There was naught he approached with minimal or mediocre effort. You either got all of him or none and when you got all, it was overwhelming. He overpowered most, myself included in the end. I am convinced he did not feel emotions the way we all do; it was always so much _more_ for him. It would pain me to feel things to the degree I now believe he did. I don't think the rest of us could handle it.

I got caught in his whirlwind; I got burned by his fire; that is true. But I was also for a while the object of his love, the focus of his passions. Is that worth the devastating loss I suffered, the pain I had to bear? I know what the others here think, but they did not know him as I did. They only ever saw his wrath, or at least that is what they choose to remember.

Nobody ever felt passively about him. Everyone who knew him either loved him or hated him. And they ask me, if I had it to do over, would I have acted differently? That is always a difficult question to answer, for how are we to know what outcome our actions will have? Would it have turned out for the better had I walked away from him? Or would I not have been there to temper any of his actions, increasing the magnitude of evils done by him and in his name?

These are the questions that haunt my nights as I lay awake in a bed that will forever remain empty, in a house that will never see my sons return, in a land that is supposed to be free of pain, but holds naught else for me. They still lament the loss of the Trees, but who laments the loss of my family? Had it not been for his endeavours, nothing of the trees would remain. Then again, had it not been for his endeavours, he may still be with me today, as well as my sons, and I would be able to walk the streets without having to endure the stares and pitying looks that still follow me all these millennia later.

I curse him these nights, and yet I still cry for him with a burning ardour that would rival his, were he still here. The nights are the worst as the light of his jewel, now placed out of reach beyond the confines of the World, looks down on me with a mocking eye. I wonder if he sees it too, in the halls of Námo, and if it pains him to look upon it as it does me. Does he resent it, as I do, for the ills it has caused and the havoc it has wreaked on all of Arda, or would he still choose it over all else? Oh cursed jewel, why is it that I might look upon you nightly when my husband, your creator, is lost to me forever?


	2. Chapter One

_We did not need to run to the white shores with the others. We could see the orange flickering on the far horizon well enough from our house outside of Tirion._

_Fire._

_Fire had consumed her husband. Fire had consumed her sons. The same fire that had one day, years past, captured her heart._

_I hugged my sobbing daughter close to my chest silently, for there were no words of comfort I had to offer. I thanked the Valar that she herself had not been consumed and then wondered if it would have been better for her if she had._

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**O N E **

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There is something about the music of the sea that is both peaceful and exciting at the same time. The sea sings its rich ancient music and lulls you into a sense that you are indeed part of a bigger story than your own. When you sit at the edge of the vast ocean, you can almost lose yourself in its grandeur, you can forget your troubles, your worries, and for a moment be at peace with the world. It was for this reason that Nerdanel travelled to the sea whenever she was not needed in her father's forge.

It wasn't as if she had a rough life. On the contrary, she enjoyed her work and was surrounded by elves she loved. But every now and then she would be overcome with the urge to pick up and go, a trait she attributed to the history of her people. When the wanderlust came over her, she usually found her way to the beach. It was a time for her to escape, and in that escape relax; basking in the light of Laurelin during the day as she watched the Telerin fishing ships sail past, the laughter of Telerin children floating past her on the wind as they splashed in the shallow inlets. When evening began to fall and the light of Telperion mingled with its sister she would walk home, the singing of the Teleri gradually fading into the voices of the Vanyar as she neared her father's house, and eventually being drowned out by the clang of hammer against metal when she finally arrived home. For often in the evening, when the light was beautiful and silver, Aulë would come, spending long hours well into the night with her father in the forge, crafting and laughing and Nerdanel would fall asleep to the music of their voices, a bass and a cello joining into a melody to the counterpoint of steel being struck like a drum.

It was a good life.

That was what she was thinking now as she sat on the beach, gazing out over the ocean and shielding her eyes from the treelight to better see the ships sail past. She dug her toes deeper into the sand, wiggling them to feel its coarseness against her skin. Leaning back on her elbows she sighed a deep contented sigh and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the treelight envelop her.

She heard the hoof beats before she saw the horse or felt its or its rider's presence.

Opening her eyes, she quickly rose to her feet and dusted herself off. It was not often anyone else came to this part of the beach. Secluded by a small grove of trees on three sides and ocean on the other as the beach was, she usually could pass the entire day without seeing another living being, save for the fisherelves out on their boats. Only her father and mother knew where she was, and they would not send for her.

She was brushing the rest of the sand off her as the horse came through the trees. She did not recognize the animal. She squinted up at the rider but could not make out his face; the light behind him was too bright and it cast his features into shadow. He swung off the horse and walked over to her.

She was about to offer her greetings when his face became visible to her. His bright eyes held her gaze and they stood in silence, the words she had been about to say completely forgotten. _Compose yourself, Nerdanel_, she chided herself. _He is only an elf_.

He might be only an elf, but he was one of the fairest she had ever laid eyes on. He almost seemed as one of the Valar, when they chose to adorn themselves with elvish raiment. But his features were those of the Noldor, more finely sculpted than hers, yet similar enough for her to recognize. His raven hair blew in the wind coming off the water and his face, while set into a scowl, by no means diminished his good looks - but also did nothing to ease Nerdanel's discomfort.

"I thought to find this beach deserted."

Nerdanel crossed her arms. Attractive or not, he had no right to address her in such a manner. She had as much right to be here as he did.

"You thought wrong."

He raised an eyebrow at her and his mouth curled up slightly. Nerdanel purposefully ignored how that made her insides clench nervously.

"Apparently so."

Carefully observing his facial expression and body language, Nerdanel waited for him to continue. His smile widened and Nerdanel wondered if it was amusing to him in some way that she was not daunted by his presence. His gaze was certainly intense enough to have turned aside many others.

After several moments of staring at each other, the elf shrugged his shoulders and relaxed his posture.

"I had hoped for a swim, and seeing that you are not much inclined to conversation, I shall indulge myself as I had planned." Without another word he walked past her towards the ocean, discarding his clothing immodestly as he went so he was left wearing naught but what Eru had blessed him with. He ran several paces into the water before diving under and resurfacing at a distance.

Giving up any hope for a peaceful day at the beach, Nerdanel walked down to the water's edge, resisting the urge to pick up his clothes and be off with them, after he had spoken to her so dismissively. When she reached the shoreline, he ceased his cavorting and stood facing her, the water coming only midway up his chest.

"Care to join me?" he asked with a coy smile. "It is rather refreshing."

Nerdanel stared at him, dumbstruck. He was positively a mass of contradictions, dismissing her one moment and inviting her to join him the next. He was walking towards her now and as he neared she carefully kept her eyes on his face, seeing as how the entirety of his clothing was still behind her on the white sand.

He stopped a few paces from her, his eyebrow once again cocked and his lips in a smirk.

"I know you are capable of speech, for you spoke before. Have you lost the ability since then?" His smirk turned into a wicked grin. "Or does my presence unnerve you so that you are struck mute before me."

Stung into action, Nerdanel took a step towards him.

"Your presence unnerves me no more than that of your horse, for his impressiveness far outweighs your own."

To her immense surprise, the elf laughed heartily.

"His impressiveness…. outweighs my own…" he choked out between breaths. "Oh, that is a gem." He sobered suddenly and looked intently at her face, as if he were searching for something. Just as Nerdanel was about to tell him to stop gawking at her, he spoke again, but quietly and almost to himself.

"You have no idea who…" He shook his head quickly as if to clear it and smiled broadly at her. "All the better, if you are to join me for a swim."

Nerdanel raised her hands to her head, for his changes of mood were making her mind spin and she did not know quite how to respond to him. "I am not to join you, for I shan't get my clothes wet. And besides," she added belatedly, "I know not who you are."

The elf sighed impatiently. "As for who I am, know that I am a respectable elf of the Noldor. I hope that will suffice for you if I in turn do not ask your identity. And no, you shan't get your clothes wet if you are to remove them, as I have."

Nerdanel instinctively clutched her hands across her body. For some reason, disrobing in front of him made her inexplicably uncomfortable. The Respectable Elf of the Noldor laughed.

"Very well, I shall return to the depths of the sea alone." His feigned expression of utter dejection made Nerdanel realize this was an elf used to getting his way. "I bid ye farewell, fair maiden." With an overly flourished bow, he trudged off into the water, lying back when it was deep enough and floating motionlessly, swept to and fro with the rhythm of the ocean.

Nerdanel exhaled heavily through her nose. She stood on the shoreline for some time, watching him drift back and forth and trying to figure him out. She supposed she should not give in to him, but it was hot and the water did look refreshing. Besides, she would learn nothing more of him by standing here alone. Although she doubted the wisdom of her decision, she removed her clothing and slowly walked into the water.

As she approached him he did not move, but continued to float with the current. The water was still shallow enough for her to walk, but deep enough to make her feel almost weightless. She submerged slowly, acclimating herself to the cooler temperature on her heated skin, before closing the last of the distance between him.

The water was still shallow enough to allow her to stand next where he lay unmoving on the gentle waves and look down on him, unwatched, since his eyes were closed. His perfectly set features were relaxed into a serene expression and he looked almost peaceful lying there, his hair splayed out in the water around him like the auras of the Valar. He was absolutely stunning. His lips…

She noticed them curling into a smile just a moment too late.

Screaming in protest, she fought against him but it was a losing battle. How he was able to spring on her so quickly, she had no idea. He dunked her under the water and when she came up sputtering to the sound of his laughter, she splashed vigorously in his direction before she was even able to open her eyes.

"What was _that_ for?" She rounded on him, but her laugh betrayed her. She splashed him once more for good measure.

"To teach you, if you wish to sneak up on someone, be sure your shadow does not cast across their face."

"I shall remember that." She grinned as a plan hatched in her mind. "And in return, I have a lesson for you."

He looked wary for a moment, but it passed and he folded his arm across his chest, his expression once again one of cocky arrogance.

"And what lesson might that be?"

Taking a deep breath, she began to splash him even more vigorously and relentlessly. It had the desired result as he shielded his face with his arms and closed his eyes. Over the noise of her efforts, she managed to shout at him, "Ladies of the Noldor are a force to be reckoned with."

Summoning all her strength, she grabbed him in the same way he had just grabbed her and tried to reproduce the manoeuvre he had just used. But by some strange twist of fate, it was she who ended up under the water again.

She surfaced, rubbing her eyes, put her hands on her hips and glared at the elf who was doubled over in laughter.

"A force… to be reckoned with…" He stopped laughing for a moment. "I suppose I have reckoned well with you, then."

He began to laugh again as he held up his hands to deflect more splashes directed his way. Although he had bested her twice, Nerdanel smiled back at him, amazed that after so short a time they were at ease with each other as if they had know each other for far longer than they had; which was odd considering she still did not know who he was.

They carried on in much the same way the rest of the day until the lights began to mingle and the air cooled. Only then did they leave the water and get dressed. Between the two of them they quickly built a small fire on the beach.

As they sat side by side and watched the dance of the flames against the backdrop of the ocean, Nerdanel could not bear to let the matter of this elf's identity alone any longer. She hesitated when she looked at him for he seemed to be at peace, and for some reason she felt in her heart this was a subject that would unsettle him.

He must have sensed her eyes on him because he turned his head towards her to meet her gaze. In his eyes the contradictions were back; torment mingled with peace, hurt coexisted with comfort, anger but also…affection? She did not move as he bent to her; she did not pull away when his lips touched hers.

It was the briefest of touches, gentle and soft, completely at odds with the fire of emotions raging in his eyes. Another contradiction.

As one they looked back to the fire. He pulled her towards him and she rested her head against his shoulder. She felt peaceful, content, but she was not so easily dissuaded.

"Even now will you not tell me your name?"

She felt him tense beside her. "I have managed to forget myself all day here with you. I beg of you not to make me remember now."

Twisting so she could see his face, she frowned up at him. "I do not understand."

His gaze was intense as he looked down at her. "Today I have found more happiness, more peace, than I have in my whole…in a long time." He frowned and turned his head back towards the fire. "I fear that by speaking the reality that is our names, we shall shatter the dream that was today."

She shifted her weight so she was kneeling next to him, facing him. "If today has to remain a dream. But why must it? Why can today not become a reality once more?" A disturbing thought entered her mind. "Unless you wish not to see me again. In which case an exchange of names is not needed, and tomorrow we both return to our lives as if naught has happened here today."

"No!" He swung his legs so he was kneeling across from her and took her hands in his. "Meet me here. Tomorrow."

She laughed at his insistence, at the urgency in his eyes and then remembered what tomorrow would bring to the reality of her own life and grimaced.

"Not tomorrow." The disappointment in his eyes was so acute she could feel it. "I apologize, but I must help my father. Believe me; I would rather be here. But tomorrow he takes on his new apprentice."

He frowned and ever so quickly, so she almost wondered if she imagined it, his eyes flicked to her hair, hanging in damp coppery waves across her shoulders, and then back to her face.

"A new apprentice? That must be exciting for you." His voice was flat, as if he did not wish to betray his thoughts, or as if he was trying to feel her out.

Nerdanel frowned at him, wondering what this new change in demeanour meant. Well, there could be no harm telling him who the new apprentice would be.

"Perhaps you could call it exciting. After all, it is Curufinwë, son of Finwë who is to be his apprentice."

He nodded once and a mirthless smile appeared on his face..

"Then you are Nerdanel, daughter of Mahtan."

Nerdanel's eyes grew wide as shock overcame her. "You…but how do you… but…" she stammered, her mind trying to rapidly figure out how this stranger named her so easily.

"I have heard tell that _Fëanáro_ is to be your father's apprentice." In one fluid motion he stood up, dusted himself off and swung up onto his horse. "I bid you goodnight, Nerdanel, for you ought to get a full night's sleep. Tomorrow you will have your hands full with the son of Finwë."

He turned his horse around and disappeared into the foliage from whence he had come that morning. Nerdanel stared after him with wide eyes and her mind reeling with confused questions before she remembered to tend to the fire. Gazing out over the ocean she shook her head, at a loss for what to think.

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_Thank you all who read and reviewed! Much hugs and cookies to you all! I will be posting reviewer responses to chapter one in my LJ, the address of which is on my bio page. Thank you, Pit of Voles, my wrist is still stinging from the slap._

_Much thanks to JunoMagic for her thorough beta of this chapter!_


	3. Chapter Two

_"No joy remained for her; no love, no peace."_

_"Atar, had she no love for her son, her Fëanáro?"_

_"All her love and being she poured into her child. Her fëa was spent, she saw naught but darkness. Not even did the silmë hold beauty for her."_

_"Then no beauty shall it hold for me."_

_"No,__ Curufinwë, do not disgrace her. Honor her memory; embrace the light. Let her sacrifice not have been in vain."_

_"Aye, father.__ Call me not Curufinwë, for I shall take the name my mother gave me."_

_"And I shall hold you dearest to my heart."_

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**T W O**

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Nerdanel heard her mother calling and she knew her time in the forge was growing short. She barely glanced over her shoulder before bending again to her work._ Ten more minutes… _She had managed to get very little accomplished today, for her mind still remained at the beach with the anonymous elf she had met yesterday; remembering their playfulness, lingering on that stolen kiss, and always ending up back at his strange reaction when he figured out who she was. As she grew more and more aggravated at her distraction, she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. She wanted to try to finish this piece of railing before dinner, knowing her father's new apprentice would arrive then. But each attempt fell short of the usual level of quality she expected of her work and by now several discarded half-finished railings lay scattered on the floor.

She heard her name again. Her mother's voice was closer this time, and so she resigned herself to the knowledge that she would have to return to her work at a later time. Removing the heavy gloves she wore, she wiped an arm across her brow in an effort to dry it. Her tools could stay out on the table for the time being, but the fire would have to be tended to. She dipped the latest attempt at a rail in the slack tub to cool it and only then noticed the quality of the light coming through the doorway. Laurelin was still shining too brightly for it to be supper; what could her mother possibly want from her at this hour?

She placed the now cooled twisted metal back on the table just as her mother appeared in the doorway. Istarnië was accompanied by a tall elf. The golden light shimmered off his dark hair, which was pulled back from his face in a firm plait. His eyes, bright and intense, were watching Nerdanel cautiously.

Nerdanel forced herself to keep the surprise from showing on her face. Why had he come? After he ran off last night, she had not expected to see him again. Her stomach clenched, her cheeks flushed and she was suddenly keenly conscious of her own appearance. She fingered the knot of her hair, pulled back to keep it out of her way as she worked, and noticed the soot on her hands, which she had surely just transferred to her face. She tried to rub her hands clean on her smith's apron to no avail; it was as sooty as the rest of her.

"Your father has not yet returned." Istarnië furrowed her brows at Nerdanel, silently questioning her strange reaction, but did not voice her confusion. "His new apprentice has arrived."

The whole world stopped around Nerdanel as her mind made sense of her mother's words. Her hammer slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a loud thud as she stared at him. The elf, her _father's new apprentice_ as it turned out, met her gaze coolly. Her mother looked from him to Nerdanel before bending to retrieve the hammer from the floor.

"I trust you can manage until your father returns?"

Istarnië's voice reached Nerdanel through a haze of shock. She took the hammer her mother held out for her and nodded. Her mother looked as if she was about to add something but instead remained silent and, with a quick nod, turned and left the forge.

Nerdanel folded her arms across her chest and tapped the handle of the hammer against her side. _He_ seemed content to stand mutely in front of her. Finally Nerdanel needed to break the stillness and ease the tension that had slowly begun to envelop her.

"You heard tell…" she began in a tightly controlled voice and shook her head. "You _heard tell_…that _you_…" she broke off with an exasperated groan and slammed the hammer down on the table.

"I did," he replied, leaning idly against the doorframe, not showing any reaction to her frustrated outburst. "When my father told me yours had agreed to take me on as an apprentice."

Nerdanel glared at him, her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists at her side. Her mind was a raging battle, between the insults she wanted to hurl at him and the voice of reason suppressing them, for he was the son of the king and her father's apprentice. Eventually, when she did not speak, he held out hand towards her.

"I do not wish to start off unfavourably…" he began.

"_Start off_ unfavourably?" she interrupted loudly. "If you did not wish to _start off_ unfavourably, you ought to have revealed your identity when you realized who I was!"

He stood straight, no longer lounging nonchalantly in the doorway, and gestured angrily at Nerdanel. "Look at yourself! Do you think I was not equally stunned yesterday?" he shouted back at her.

Taken aback, Nerdanel thought on that for a moment.

He took a deep breath and stepped towards her, holding out his hands. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly quiet and controlled. "We must put yesterday behind us."

"So it _is_ to be a dream, then?" she asked sullenly. "I might have known." She turned her back on him, not wanting him to see the anger and disappointment she felt.

"What mean you by that?" She did not need to see his face to know he spoke his question through clenched teeth.

"Well, your reputation precedes you, _Curufinwë_," she spun back around as she answered, putting as much distaste as she was capable of into his name.

"Does it?" His eyes sparkled as he narrowed them. He walked over to stand directly in front of her. The thought crossed her mind, for the briefest of moments, to actually tell him what she meant. Part of her wanted to yell all the unfavourable things she had ever heard mentioned about him to his face, just so she could hurt him as much as his deceitfulness had hurt her. But when she glared up into his eyes, amid the anger and challenge there she found something else: uncertainty, regret, disappointment.

Silently cursing her compassion, her weakness, she folded her arms across her chest.

"It is said you are already a talented smith in your own right."

He cocked his head to the side. "You surely have heard much of me, _Nerdanel_." He said her name in perfect mimicry of how she had just said his. "The least of which being my capabilities as a smith."

Nerdanel's shoulders tensed. She saw his slight smile and it irked her that he caught her reaction. After she had spared his feelings he treaded on hers without second thought. Well, she could be cold and unfeeling as well.

"Is there truth, then, in the whisperings I hear?"

He raised his eyebrows into an expression that would best be described as inquisitive. "Which whisperings?" His voice was low, challenging, and he took a step closer to her. Her heart began to beat faster.

_They say you killed your mother_.

"They say…" The words flew unbidden into her head, but she could not give voice to them. Not at her worst enemy would she have been able to make such an accusation. For the second time she reigned in her angry impulse. Hoping he did not notice her hesitation, she tried desperately to remember something else about him. "…they say you have improved upon Rumil's letters."

She saw the corners of his mouth curl up smugly before he turned and wandered nonchalantly away from her. "Nerdanel the wise is given the opportunity to ask of me anything she wishes and she asks of my _Tengwar_." He spun to face her, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Disappointing."

She bristled at his words. "You mock me, and in my father's forge no less."

"I do." He came back to stand right in front of her. "But you dissemble. You expect me to believe there is naught else you wish to ask of me?"

Nerdanel tilted her chin up towards him defiantly. She would not afford him a victory now, even if he was right. "No. I wish only to know of the _Tengwar_."

"For that is what elves whisper of," he answered dryly. Nerdanel narrowed her eyes.

"Why would you have me speak of something so unpleasant that others must whisper of it?" His gaze was so intense and his body so close to hers, Nerdanel couldn't help but take a step back from him.

He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them once again. "So I can dispel the rumour and tell you the truth."

"Because we both know how intent on the truth you are." She saw a flicker of anger in his eyes.

"Had I told you who I was, would you have remained with me yesterday?" He leaned closer towards her, causing her to take a few more steps back and bump up against the table with her tools on it. The table! She slipped around to the other side, allowing the piece of furniture to come between them.

"I understand," she snapped bitterly at him. "You deceive _quendir_ in order to be able to seduce them."

He manoeuvred easily around the table and matched each of her steps backward until she was up against the wall. Feeling trapped and not liking it at all, she crossed her arms and pressed herself against the stone behind her. His proximity was agitating her beyond reason, as did his next words.

"You seemed not to mind my actions yesterday. Besides," he continued with what seemed to be almost an afterthought. "You are the first _quendi_ I have come across that did not know who I was."

"So there _have_ been many." Nerdanel resented the stab of disappointment she felt.

"Nerdanel…" his voice changed and sounded almost gentle, pleading. His brows drew together and his eyes grew wide, making him look overly distraught. Without warning, he reached up with his left hand and brushed soot from her cheek with his thumb, his fingers lingering on her jaw. She inhaled sharply when she felt his touch against her skin and fought to keep her shoulders relaxed in order to maintain a casual pose. He could not be allowed to know how much he affected her.

"Do not touch me again." She fought to keep her voice cold while holding his steely gaze.

"Very well." He did not back away from her but he dropped his hand from her face. "I do not wish to be your adversary."

"Then do not provoke me." She thrust her chin forward to disguise the uncertainty she felt.

He did not respond, but walked over to where her discarded rails were lying on the floor. She silently watched him pick one rail up after the other and examine it, her anger at him rekindling with each one he inspected. After viewing a few of her failed attempts, he turned back to her.

"I seem to have interrupted your work." He picked up her latest attempt which lay on the table she had thought to push between them.

He regarded the form with a keen eye and Nerdanel frowned at him, baffled by his sudden change in demeanour. As he turned the metal over in his hands, she found herself waiting for his judgement of her work. It surprised and annoyed her that she would care to hear his opinion at all.

She watched him very carefully; how his eyes travelled over the metal in his hands, how his mouth pressed into a thin line which revealed nothing of his mind, how his hand gently brushed the outline of the form as if to use all his senses to absorb the object in his grasp. It was hard to reconcile his previous behaviour with his current actions. No one as arrogant and heartless as he had seemed to be earlier would regard someone else's workmanship with such intensity; such childlike enthusiasm.

He finished looking over the rail and placed it gently on the table from where he had taken it. Silently, he turned back to Nerdanel and folded his arms across his chest, mirroring the stance she only just then realized she had again taken. She dropped her arms quickly.

As a matter of pride, she would not ask his opinion of her work, which he obviously expected her to do, although her insides were burning to know what he thought. As the moments passed, her curiosity turned to a simmering agitation. Perhaps he _was_ as arrogant as she had initially thought. How dare he stand there with that ever so slight smile on his face? He _knew_ she was waiting for his appraisal, and he was going to stand there and make her plead with him for it?

"Should you desire my opinion, you ought to just ask for it."

Nerdanel's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She closed her mouth as her hands clenched into fists. Who was he to tell her what she should ask for? And what made him think she wanted his opinion anyway?

"I see you shall not," he continued, before she could collect her thoughts enough to speak. "Tis a pity, for I hold your father in high regard and it would please me to assist his daughter."

"Assist?" His words rankled Nerdanel. "I need no assistance."

He glanced from the rail on the table to the pile on the floor before giving her a disbelieving look. "I have had occasion to see other items you have crafted. They all speak volumes about your _fëa_. This one," he motioned towards the table behind him. "Speaks nothing to me. What of this one troubles you?"

Nerdanel glared at him. "Naught troubles me. I was merely distracted today."

"Distracted?" He sounded incredulous, as if he could not comprehend what might distract one from their work. "By what?"

Nerdanel bit her lip and turned her head from him. He walked back over to her and despite her earlier command, reached up to her chin and turned her face towards him. He dropped his hand as soon as he found her gaze. In his eyes she saw understanding and remorse.

"Perhaps then I might help, since I seem to have been the cause of your trouble."

Nerdanel's eyes flicked over to the rail. Despite her earlier annoyance with him, despite the fact that she knew she should keep up her protective anger towards him, she considered his offer. As presumptuous as he was, as inappropriate as her feelings were towards him, and despite all the angry words that had passed between them, he was said to be talented, and the craftelf in her could not resist seeing him in action.

She nodded her assent and he moved to the other side of the table, motioning for her to come closer. Hesitantly she stepped away from the wall and approached the table. "You are trying to overcomplicate the design. Here." He pointed to a part of the midsection of the rail that she had been struggling with before he arrived. "Perhaps if we…you…" he looked up at her and gave her a smile filled with genuine warmth, the first she had seen on him since he arrived today. "Might I have a try?"

He seemed so eager Nerdanel could not deny him. She nodded acceptance of his help for she was not able to speak after he smiled at her like that. With a broad grin that betrayed great enthusiasm for his craft and nearly undid her, he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and took the tongs off the table where they lay. When she saw him walking to the fire, she went to work the bellows, since the fire had cooled. He heated the rail in the fire and walked it over to the anvil. Grabbing a hammer off the table, Nerdanel went to join him.

He wordlessly took the hammer from her and bent to his work. He formed the metal into a new, simpler design with quick deft strokes. Nerdanel watched him in awe. After mere moments he picked it up with the tongs to examine it. Nerdanel's realized her mouth was open again and shut it quickly before he noticed. But there was no chance of that, as engrossed as he was in examining the new design. He dipped it into the slack tub, dried it, and presented it to Nerdanel.

She took it from him and, turning it around a few times to make sure she wasn't imagining it, smiled. He had achieved the exact effect she wanted.

"Oh, it is beautiful!" She placed it back on the table and grabbed his forearm, unaware of anything but her relief that the rail was finished until she felt his warm skin beneath her hand. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to beat faster. She released her grasp, turning her eyes from him.

"Quite beautiful." For a moment it seemed to her that he did not look at the rail, but rather at her. But as heat flushed her cheeks in embarrassment, he had already turned away.

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**_NOTES:_**

_**Istarni****ë**: Tolkien did not give Nerdanel a mother; Istarnië is the original name he gave Nerdanel so I just used it as her mother's name. This was not an original idea; I have seen many other authors use it._

_**Tengwar**: The letters that Rumil devised and Fëanor improved upon to represent the sounds of the Quenya language._

_**Quendi/Quendir** (pl): female elf (Quenya)_

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_Thank you again, readers & reviewers! Once again, responses to the nice little notes you have left me will be on my live journal. The address is on my bio page. I will respond to everyone who has left a message here._

_SHAMELESS PROMOTION – House of Fëanor has a live journal page. For all things Fëanorian…Live Journal user HouseOfFeanor. Go there!_

_Special thanks to JunoMagic and LtSonya for their beta help on this chapter!_


	4. Chapter Three

_"What doom have you foreseen? Speak, seer, or get thee from my home."_

The diviner stood calmly before the smith master. "Though you may not desire to interfere in her affairs, you must stay your daughter from her current path."

"If you speak of her attention to the son of the king, there is naught I can do. Besides, arrogant though he is, he has a good heart and cares deeply for my daughter. What ills will you speak of him?"

"The arrogance you speak of shall be much bewailed, but worse he shall be named kinslayer 'ere the end."

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**T H R E E**

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Nerdanel swung her hammer and it connected with the metal spike with a loud clang. He was late. Another swing, another clang, and the spike joined the pile that had accumulated on the floor as Nerdanel began the process again.

He was never late. In all the time he had been her father's apprentice, he had shown up at the forge at the first light of Laurelin. _Clang._ She had grown to expect him, arrogant and irritating though he was, and now he was not here when she had to finish a large order for the builders up the way. _Clang_. She could use his help; where could he be? It was completely unacceptable for him to not arrive when expected.

Her father entered the forge just in time to see her hammer hit the metal with far more force than was necessary to shape it. She threw the spike into the pile, pulled off her gloves and walked over to her father.

Mahtan greeted her with a big smile and a warm hug. "Good morning, Nerdanel, I missed you at breakfast."

"I thought to get an early start," she explained, her agitation fading away in the warm presence of her father. "There is much to do today."

Mahtan nodded as he glanced around the room. "Always industrious, my little Nerdanel." He frowned and turned back to her. "Where is Fëanáro? I wish to speak with him."

"Him." Nerdanel answered, not bothering to hide the distaste in her voice. "He has not yet arrived."

Her father regarded her calmly, but not without concern. "You are bothered by this."

Nerdanel picked at the fingers of the gloves she still held in her hands, realizing that she was far more agitated than was probably warranted. "I am. I could use his help today," she justified.

"Is that all?" Mahtan took his daughter by the shoulder and guided her back over to the anvil where she had been working. "Then worry not, for I have naught I need to do today. Perhaps I may help in his stead." He gave her a bright smile and went to get his tools, apron and gloves and set himself up to work.

It was a certain comfort, working side by side with her father as they had done so many times in the past. They had a rhythm, developed over years of working together, and they knew instinctively where the other was at all times. Never did they reach for the slack tub at the same time, or collide with each other when placing a new form in the fire. But the familiarity eventually added to Nerdanel's foul mood, for she was so used to their flow, she needed not think on her actions, and instead her mind was free to wander where it would.

Fëanor should be there. She was grateful for her father's help, but it did not diminish her annoyance with Fëanor. He had accepted an apprenticeship which came with certain responsibilities and… as if the loud clang of her hammer against the metal woke her, her train of thoughts abruptly shifted. Why did she care; she was getting the help she needed. What did it matter if he was not here, that was not her concern, but her father's.

"You are still troubled."

Nerdanel swung her hammer one more time before dropping it and answering her father. "His lack of responsibility upsets me."

"Lack of responsibility?" Mahtan drew his brows together, but the corner of his mouth was tugging skyward, betraying that he was not too troubled by her words.

"Father, you expected him to be here and he is not." After the words left her lips, she realized how absurd they actually sounded. She looked at the ground so she did not have to meet her father's gaze. She didn't know why it mattered to her; didn't know why she was feeling this way; didn't know what was wrong with her.

"He is not bound to come at any given time, provided he finishes the work I give to him." Mahtan scrutinized his daughter, his words only serving to add to her self-recrimination. "Why does it matter to you whether he is here or not?"

After a pause, Nerdanel picked up her hammer. "It matters not," she finally said without looking up. It was better not to think on it too much. If her father was not upset at his absence, then she would not be either.

She bent to work again, realizing after a bit that her father was standing there watching her. She stopped and looked up at him. "Is there aught wrong, father?"

He came over and put an arm around her. "I would think you would be pleased for a respite from his company, as aggravated as you always seem in his presence."

Nerdanel's annoyance increased. It _should_ be a pleasant change for her, but lately Fëanor's absence seemed to irritate her more than his company.

"It seems he can do naught to please you, Nerdanel."

Nerdanel pulled away from her father and looked closely at his face, trying to understand his meaning. "Why does it matter to you if he pleases me?"

Mahtan sighed and moved some tools aside so he could rest against the table. "It is not a question of whether or not he pleases you, my daughter; more so how _much_ he always displeases you."

Mahtan's words touched on something that Nerdanel had been trying to deny to herself for close to a year. As he prodded closer to understanding, she pulled herself farther away from it, feigning ignorance. "I do not take your meaning, father."

"Nerdanel," he reached out and clasped her hands in his, his eyes full of compassion, "I speak of _how much_ you feel for him. Whether it is aggravation…or anything else."

Nerdanel, denying to herself as well as her father, pulled her hands back. "Do not spare another thought on this. I feel naught for him but annoyance. He does naught but irritate me." If she repeated this often enough – and vehemently enough – maybe she would come to actually believe it.

Mahtan exhaled a deep breath and smiled sympathetically at his daughter. All at once Nerdanel realized that he knew her better than anyone else and in that instant, comfortable in the understanding of her father, the truth of her feelings finally overcame her.

"Oh, father, I _do_ feel too much for him!" Realizing the enormity of the admission she just made, she held out her hands towards him and added quickly, "I have tried for almost a year not to!"

Mahtan suddenly looked very weary, but Nerdanel questioned what she saw for a moment later the look was gone. "Why do you fight your feelings? Not because he is my apprentice, I hope, for that is only a temporary ailment."

Feeling the pang of regret that caused her to deny her feelings in the first place, Nerdanel closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"He sees me as no more than his Smithmaster's daughter." She felt her father's arm around her shoulders again. He pulled her towards him and stroked her hair like he did when she was little.

"Did he tell you this?"

Nerdanel pressed against her father, feeling his warm comforting embrace. "Not in so many words, but I know it to be true." She felt her father's chest vibrate with his hearty laugh. Startled, she pulled away and looked up at his face.

"Then you do not see how his gaze often rests on you as you work."

Nerdanel pressed her lips together. "With a critical eye for my craft, no doubt. He has but a one-track mind."

"It is not with such intensity that he would gaze at mere works of our craft." Mahtan insisted.

Despite herself, Nerdanel laughed. "Either you jest or you speak of a different Fëanáro."

Mahtan tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you are right about his passion for his work, but I maintain his interest in you is more than based on a shared love of craft."

The smile, remnant of her laugher, left her face and Nerdanel sunk back against the table. "No, father," she said in a quiet voice, "he has made it clear to me he has no interest in me outside the forge." She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the knot in her stomach.

Mahtan leaned back to rest against the table next to her, once more draping his arm across her shoulders. "It is for the best, then," he said soothingly.

Nerdanel opened her eyes and looked at him, her brows furrowed.

"Do not misunderstand; I think very highly of Fëanáro son of Finwë. He is a brilliant student and a masterful smith. But my dear daughter, his name suits him well. The forge fires we keep allow us our life work, but they must be tended with care. When heating an element, we must keep ourselves a safe distance from the flame, lest we get burned."

Nerdanel regarded her father intently. "Do you wish me, then, to stay away from him, this untenable forge fire which threatens to burn me lest I am careful?"

"No, my dear." Mahtan smiled and kissed her forehead before releasing her. "I only wish for your happiness."

Suddenly the light coming through the doorway dimmed and as one, father and daughter looked up. There, framed by the golden light of Laurelin, stood Fëanor. Nerdanel felt her stomach turn nervously. He hesitated on the threshold, which was very unlike him, and she wondered just how much of their conversation he had heard. But once Mahtan beckoned him inside and he smiled at both of them, she grew pretty sure he had not overheard what they spoke of.

"Fëanáro," she heard her father say cordially. "You have impeccable timing." He walked away from his daughter, turning once back towards her to give her an encouraging smile before directing the rest of his words to Fëanor. "I am leaving and I believe Nerdanel could use your help."

Nerdanel's eyes widened. Luckily Fëanor was looking at her father and apparently did not notice.

"Of course, Master Mahtan."

Fëanor inclined his head politely as the older smith passed. Once Mahtan had exited the forge, Fëanor took a few steps towards Nerdanel. "What do you need from me?" he asked amiably.

His friendly tone, after all the annoyance he had caused her to feel by his absence, coupled with the conversation she just had with her father, only served to re-ignite her agitation. "I needed you to arrive much earlier than you did," she snapped.

"Did you miss me?" he teased.

His taunt landed closer to the mark than Nerdanel wanted him to know. Using her anger to push any other feelings aside, she turned her back on him and walked over to the fire to try and stoke it back into life. "You ought to leave. My father will return shortly and he can offer me any assistance I may need."

Fëanor crossed the distance between them, standing far closer to her than she should allow. But being literally against a wall, she had little choice but to allow it; or take to violence to remove him. She felt the heat of his body behind her, the few inches between them not an effective enough barrier to keep that from her. Inhaling deeply to calm her nerves, she breathed in his scent, a not unpleasant mix of soot and sweat, and trees after a thunderstorm.

His breath tickled her neck when he spoke, sending a jolt down her spine. "You ought to be careful if you do not wish to get burned by that fire you tend to." She whipped her head around towards him, finding his face unnervingly close to hers.

Biting back shivers and cursing her body for its betrayal, she noticed the slight smile playing across his face and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Regardless of her body's reaction, she could not allow him, despite what he may have heard, to realize how she felt. He was arrogant, and overconfident, and full of himself, and enjoyed teasing her far too much already. If he knew of her feeling he would no doubt use it to his advantage and be completely ruthless. She positioned herself so she was facing him and could push him away if the need arose.

"I appreciate your concern for my well being, _Curufinwë_," she snapped, "but I assure you it is unnecessary."

He took a step back and clenched his jaw. "I have asked you to call me Fëanáro." He spoke in far more heated a tone than anyone should use over a name.

Nerdanel allowed herself a slight smile. "And I have asked you not to corner me, as you are so fond of doing." she retorted.

Fëanor let himself fall towards her and caught himself with his hands against the wall, one on either side of her, effectively trapping her. "Perhaps I can not help myself. Perhaps I am overcome with the desire to be in your close proximity." He was disturbingly close to her, but there was enough distance between them for her to catch his amused smirk and cocked eyebrow. "

"I have heard tell of the type of _quendi_ you are accustomed to," Nerdanel began, her voice low and harsh, "but you would do well to remember you are my father's apprentice."

She held his gaze, as difficult as she found that feat, until he abruptly took a step back and leaned idly against the table. He didn't appear upset by her words, more curious by them.

"Is that truly how you think of me? Merely as your father's apprentice?"

She felt her whole body tense at his nonchalant tone and probing words.

"And here I thought you were growing fond of me."

"Fond of you?" She forced as much incredulousness into her voice as she could muster. "Used to your presence, perhaps, but certainly not _fond_ of you."

"Is that so?" She wanted to wipe that smug look right off his face. "Or perhaps you merely wish to remain a _safe distance_ from that which frightens you."

He was still playing games with her and she had enough. Nerdanel folded her arms across her chest. "As a rule, I will not consort with a student of my father." Narrowing her eyes, she added, "Especially not an arrogant, spoiled princeling."

He pushed himself off the table, his eyes burning in stark contrast to his casual posture. He advanced on her so that their faces were naught but inches from each other, so close that Nerdanel felt the fire behind his eyes might actually burn her.

"Were I you, I would not limit my choices. I see no line of elves outside, waiting for your affections." he growled at her. "Perhaps they have heard of your venomous tongue and know to keep their distance."

Her hand flew up, her first impulse to slap him, before she thought better of it. Crying out her frustration, she put her hands on his chest and pushed with all her strength, sending him back a few steps.

As he stormed from the forge, she shouted after him, "Námo take you, Fëanáro," ignoring the hot tears coursing down her cheeks.

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_Thank you, JunoMagic for betaing this chapter.__ Thank you everyone who has been reading and reviewing. As usual, look for my responses in my LJ in the next day or two._


	5. Chapter Four

_"With all due respect, Smithmaster, I feel they are far too young to wed."_

_"Young or not, I believe it is too late for us to make that decision, sire." Mahtan inclined his head politely before adding, "With all due respect."_

_Finwë frowned at the smith. "What do you mean?"_

_Mahtan smiled and shook his head. "By their eyes I perceive it is already done. I think they have asked for our counsel merely as a formality."_

_"So what are we to do?" Mahtan smiled at the king's reaction, so similar to what his had been._

_"Give them our blessing."_

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**F O U R**

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"It certainly is quiet without Fëanáro at our table."

Nerdanel did not turn her head to look at her mother, knowing the comment was directed at her with the intention to elicit a response. Instead, she took a sip of her wine and reached out to serve herself another helping of potatoes.

"It is." Her father agreed when he had swallowed the meat he had been chewing. "I have grown accustomed to his presence over the past year. It seems near silent now without him here."

Nerdanel realized both her parents were staring at her. She glanced from one to the other as she picked up her fork.

"It is peaceful, for once," she snapped, and stabbed at her potato a little too vehemently.

Mahtan laughed into his wine.

Istarnië reached across the table to place her right hand on Nerdanel's left, which rested next to her plate. "Love, will you still not speak of what happened between the two of you before he was summoned to Tirion?"

Nerdanel sighed expressively. "There is naught to speak of. Nothing happened." She saw her parents exchange a knowing look.

"The silence in the forge was deeper when you were in there together than when I am in there alone." Mahtan smiled at Nerdanel while she glared at him. "If you do not wish to speak of it, we will respect that, but know that loads are easier to bear when you share them."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Istarnië took her hand back and began to eat again while Nerdanel stared down at her food. After a few moments, Mahtan broke the quiet, his voice strangely formal.

"So, Istarnië, an invitation arrived for us today. You and I are to be guests of honour at the festival five days hence."

Nerdanel looked up when she heard her mother giggle. It was strange enough that she was not included in the invitation as was customary – could her recent fight with Fëanor have aught to do with it? She supposed shoving the High Prince of the Noldor may not have been the best idea, even if he had deserved much more for what he said to her. But stranger still was the fact that her mother was giggling, apparently unaffected by this deviation from the usual custom. Istarnië covered her mouth when she caught her daughter's gaze and her expression turned solemn as she responded to her husband.

"The women at market yesterday could speak of naught _but_ the upcoming festival."

Mahtan nodded expressively. "Is that so?" He picked up his glass and swirled the wine around before taking a sip. "And what did they have to say on the subject?"

Nerdanel's eyes darted from her one parent to the other. There was something strange about the way they were speaking to each other. The two were usually so informal but this conversation seemed almost, for a lack of a better word, _rehearsed_.

"It was quite interesting." Istarnië replied, ignoring Nerdanel's stare. "You know, I usually pay no heed to the gossip flying around the market."

"Of course, of course," Mahtan assented far too quickly.

"But since more than one elf told me," she glanced quickly at Nerdanel and then back at Mahtan, "Nay, almost _everyone_ told me – as if it was vitally important news – I could not help but listen."

Mahtan's eyes were wide with obviously feigned interest by this point. "What news, Istarnië?"

Nerdanel saw them both grinning foolishly at each other, as if they were in on some joke that Nerdanel was not. She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out where the conversation was heading and coming up with nothing.

"Well," her mother began with contrived breathless excitement, "it seems that Fëanáro is to attend the festival unaccompanied."

Nerdanel dropped her right hand to the table and her fork hit her plate with a loud clink. This was the big news?

"Mother, I thought court intrigue did not interest you."

Nerdanel saw her father try to hide his smile behind his wine glass. Her mother, on the other hand, beamed unabashedly at Nerdanel.

"I believed that piece of information might interest _you_, Nerdanel."

Nerdanel's mouth fell open in a gasp and she swung her head to glare at her father. Mahtan was pushing his meat around his plate, a sheepish grin on his face.

"At any rate," Istarnië continued, "the elves in the market seemed to read some great meaning into this."

"Perhaps he has been busy and has not yet found the time to invite someone." Nerdanel said dryly, still trying to catch her father's eye so she could give him a proper glare for letting slip her secret.

Without looking up, Mahtan said, "Perhaps the one he wishes to escort is currently not speaking to him." Before Nerdanel could tell her father how much she doubted that to be true, her mother began to speak again.

"The elves at market seemed to think Finwë wishes for his son to have a chance to interact more with the girls of the Noldor instead of always escorting Eärwen from the havens."

Nerdanel whipped her head towards her mother and realized dismally that she surely looked far to interested to feign indifference to the conversation any longer. For all she could think of was how Fëanor had never mentioned his friendship, if friendship only it was, with Eärwen, or anyone else for that matter. Any glimmer of hope she ever had fled her mind and she realized the truth – he did not wish to include her in his life; she was only a means to pass the time when he was away from Tirion.

"It is said Finwë does not favour a match for one of his sons with any of the Teleri." Istarnië said, ignoring Nerdanel's intense looks.

"I know that to be untrue." Mahtan disagreed with his wife, finally glancing up from his plate. "Finwë and Olwë are good friends, and it would probably please him for Fëanáro to wed Olwë's daughter." Nerdanel bit her lip, not even wanting to look at her father.

Istarnië shrugged, indicating her acceptance of what her husband had said. "Still, the _quendir_ are all abuzz about Fëanáro's apparent availability, especially the ones with daughters, even though I reminded them that Fëanor is still by far too young to wed."

Mahtan snorted into his wineglass that he had just picked up.

They were being cruel. There was no other way to describe how they were acting. Nerdanel sat in her chair feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable as she listened to her parents speak over her head about who Fëanor – who they both knew she had unrequited feelings for – was going to wed.

"Of course," Istarnië mused almost to herself, "that didn't seem to much matter to the _quendir_."

"Can we please talk of something else?" Nerdanel asked quietly, the dinner she had just eaten sitting uncomfortably in her stomach.

Ignoring her, Mahtan replied to his wife. "They probably feel the king's firstborn son to be an excellent match for any of their daughters."

Nerdanel sunk lower in her chair and clasped her arms across her stomach, wondering what ill she committed against her parents to deserve this.

Istarnië nodded in agreement. "According to the _quendir_, their daughters all feel the same way."

With that, Nerdanel stood up. "Excuse me, please, but I need to leave. I can take no more of this conversation."

Mahtan stood as well and smiled kindly at her. "Sit down, my dear daughter. Perhaps we have gone too far." Nerdanel sat back down and her father walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Wait just a moment."

He re-entered carrying a rolled up piece of parchment which he handed to Nerdanel. She looked at it, then up at her mother. Istarnië was grinning foolishly. Mahtan was no better, for his grin was even wider. Giving up on garnering information from her parents, Nerdanel examined the parchment, turning it over in her hands.

"What is this?" she finally asked.

"Why don't you open it?" Istarnië suggested.

Nerdanel regarded the parchment uneasily for a few more moments before slipping the tie off it. She unrolled it and held it open, reading through it once.

"What does it say?"

Nerdanel looked at her father and could tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he already knew full well what it said.

"It is a formal request for me to attend the festival." Nerdanel swallowed hard before continuing to speak, her eyes back on the parchment, "Escorted by Fëanáro." She shook her head in disbelief before looking up at her father. "You jest."

As one, Istarnië and Mahtan shook their heads 'no.' Even though their faces were solemn; Nerdanel could see excitement in both of their eyes: excitement for her, excitement that she herself was not experiencing.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and looked once again at the parchment. Sure enough, there was Fëanor's seal: a star pointed with eight rays and eight spikes. She brushed her fingers over the raised wax to reinforce to herself that it was real. Feeling her eyes begin to burn, she stood up, threw the parchment on the table and ran from the room.

Her father must have followed close behind her, for no sooner had she sat down on the bench outside the front door of their home and pulled her legs into her stomach, Mahtan was seated next to her.

"Nerdanel, child, what is wrong?" He draped a comforting arm across her shoulders. "Your mother and I both thought you would be exhilarated, or at least pleased, when you read the invitation."

Leaning into her father's embrace, she tried to let her anxiety pass, but it continued to gnaw at her insides. "I cannot go with him, father."

Mahtan sighed and Nerdanel wondered if his patience with her was growing thin. "Did you ever think, perhaps, that you are wrong about his feelings for you? His intentions? After all, he did invite you to the festival."

Nerdanel shook her head and tried to bury it deeper in her father's shoulder. "Father, you did not hear what he said to me. It was awful." She wiped a tear from her cheek and felt Mahtan kiss the top of her head.

"Do not heed words spoken in anger. Did you mean all you said to him?"

Nerdanel looked up at him in surprise. How much did Mahtan know of those hurtful words exchanged in the forge? Before she could ask, Mahtan spoke again.

"I know not what was said, but I saw Fëanáro leave the forge that day. By his eyes I could tell whatever was said hurt him as well."

"Which is why I can not attend the festival with him."

Mahtan's eyes grew wide. "You intend to refuse his invitation?" Nerdanel bit her lip, folded her arms and looked away from her father. "Nerdanel, that would be discourteous, and… and very _unwise_."

"So I have no choice, then?"

"Of course you have a choice." Mahtan took her shoulders in his hands. "And your mother and I will support you, no matter your choice. I simply…" he looked away and pressed his lips together before he continued. "It does say something that he invited you. Perhaps it is his way of making amends."

Nerdanel considered that possibility. "Perhaps…"

Mahtan smiled weakly down at her. "Besides, it may be fun."

Nerdanel blinked sceptically at him and he laughed. She could not believe she was about to agree to this. "I doubt it. But I will send my acceptance to Tirion tomorrow."

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

_No! I did not fall off the face of the earth. No! I did not abandon this story. Yes! Real life has been a biotch lately._

_Thank you **JunoMagic** and **Gwynnyd** for betaing this chapter. It is much better now than when it was first sent off. Reviewer responses in LJ eventually._


	6. Chapter Five

"_Have you had the occasion to visit the workshop of Fëanáro in Tirion?_

_Mahtan shook his head at the Vala. "No, old friend, I have not had the chance to see him since he finished his apprenticeship."_

_Aulë pulled a necklace from a pouch at his waist and handed it to Mahtan. It was wrought of polished copper and set with a large, expertly cut emerald. "This he crafted as a gift to Yavanna."_

_Mahtan turned the necklace around in his hands, watching the emerald sparkle._

_Taking back the necklace, Aulë smiled. "The son of Finwë has found his inspiration."_

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**F I V E**

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The days leading up to the festival were busy for Nerdanel, for which she was glad. It gave her very little time to think about what might happen and what she would encounter. When the day finally arrived, her mother woke her early so they could make the necessary preparations. Food needed to be packed for the journey to Tirion, and clothes, for they would be staying over in the city for several days. The forge fires needed to be completely extinguished, as the embers they usually left glowing from day to day were too dangerous to leave untended for as long as they would be away. Mahtan grumbled much about the sludge they would need to shovel when they returned. Nerdanel offered to stay and tend the fire, but her father just laughed and stopped complaining. When they finally loaded up the horses with their packs and set off, Laurelin was just beginning to bloom, casting a faint golden glow on the path before them.

The long ride to Tirion gave Nerdanel far too much idle time to be able to think. Her parents rode in front of her, occasionally speaking casually about the landscape they passed, or what they wished to do while in Tirion, but for the most part they rode in companionable silence, allowing Nerdanel's mind to wander to and from different things.

The dress she had packed was of simple design, but it was one of her favourite. Would it be pleasing to Fëanor? She frowned at herself. She did not care if it was pleasing to Fëanor; it was comfortable and she liked it, that was enough. But would she look plain next to the _quendi_ who lived every day in the city and were more accustomed to dressing formally? Again, it did not matter. None of it mattered, _especially_ Fëanor's opinion.

By the time they reached the white gates, Nerdanel was both anxious about the festival and chiding herself for her anxiety. Her face must have betrayed her emotions because her mother smiled encouragingly at her and reached over to pat her leg. As Laurelin came to full zenith, they made their way to the small four room apartment her father maintained for his frequent visits to Tirion. Though Nerdanel would have dragged the trip out longer, her father was pleased at the time they made.

Once inside their rooms, they sat down together to have the midday meal, but spent very little time afterwards relaxing or talking; Istarnië insisted that Nerdanel bathe and begin to get ready for the festival, for they had little time until she would be called for. After her bath, her mother helped her dry her hair and pin it up on her head, allowing a few copper waves to hang down and frame her face. Nerdanel slipped the dress on over her thin undergarments and allowed her mother to lace up the back. When Istarnië finished, she took Nerdanel's shoulders and turned her around. She gave her, her dress and her hair, an appraising look.

"If you are correct about his lack of feelings for you, then son of the king or not, he is a fool."

Nerdanel smiled gratefully at her mother, her words helping to ease Nerdanel's nerves slightly. But there was still that ache of apprehension in her stomach that would not be quelled.

As Telperion's cool silver light began to mingle with Laurelin's diminishing hot gold, a messenger came to the door. He was a herald of the king, judging by Finwë's device on the chest of his tunic. Mahtan permitted him entry and he bowed deeply to Istarnië and then Nerdanel.

"Milady, his highness, Prince Curufinwë Fëanáro sends his greetings to your family and bids you meet him in the East Courtyard outside the palace of His Royal Highness, King Finwë of the Noldor."

Nerdanel's stomach jumped and she turned to her father for support. Mahtan walked over to her and, kissing her cheek, whispered into her ear.

"Be not afraid." He stepped back and in a voice for everyone to hear added, "Your mother and I are to meet Aulë shortly and will see you at the festival." He grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Grateful for her parents' love and support, Nerdanel felt almost confident enough to go through with this. But, having little other choice now, she followed the herald out the door, away from her parents' comforting presence, through the streets of Tirion. One thing she was thankful for was the absence of anyone else on the street except for her and the herald. She felt awkward following behind him without speaking but since she could come up with nothing to say to him, she remained silent.

After winding through several streets they came out of the shadowed side of Tirion. Climbing up a short way towards the centre of the city, they finally reached the wall outside the palace. It was bathed in brilliant silver light, a contrast to the muted tones of reflected colour Nerdanel was used to, and she squinted. The gates lay open, unguarded. She knew, from the stories of her father, that the gates were usually guarded and wondered if the guards had all abandoned their post for the night to attend the festival themselves. She didn't think much on it; for shortly after they passed through the gates, they entered the gardens that surrounded the palace and Nerdanel did all she could to take it all in. The herald led her through the gardens until they reached another white wall with a wide archway built into it. With a deep bow, the herald turned and left Nerdanel standing just outside the archway. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before walking through the arch.

This must be the East Courtyard of which the herald had spoken. Nerdanel stared at her surroundings, feeling small and alone, overcome by their grandeur. Everything was built of white marble and sparkled like Varda's stars in the silver light that found its way into the courtyard. Around the perimeter grew silver birch trees, their bark just slightly darker than the walls they stood in front of. In the centre of the courtyard was an intricately carved fountain. Atop it stood a statue of three elves. Nerdanel peered up at their heroic and enigmatic faces. These could be no other than the leaders of the three hosts of elves of the Great Journey. As she walked slowly towards the fountain, she wondered again what she was doing in this place. She felt as if she had stepped out of her life and into a dream.

"I prefer a dirty forge to this frigid immaculacy any day."

She jumped as Fëanor's voice startled her. She spun to face him. If hearing his voice was a shock, his appearance was even more of one. His hair, which he usually wore in a simple plait in the forge, hung loose except for a series of intricate knots around the silver circlet on top of his head. Instead of the plain tunic and trousers she had always seen him in, he wore long robes of blue and silver that matched his eyes and shimmered in the waxing silver treelight.

As he left the arch and walked towards her, she saw that he did wear a silver tunic over dark blue leggings beneath the robes, but he still seemed so unlike the Fëanor she had worked beside for the past year. She did not feel agitated in his presence; she was too much in awe. He stood before her and she felt the need to speak, though nothing intelligent came to mind. After long moments of silence she decided to comment on the courtyard.

"It is very pretty," she said tentatively.

"It is cold and unfeeling," he answered with a frown.

Nerdanel smiled, gaining herself an intensely disapproving stare from Fëanor. Despite what he wore and how his hair was done, he was still the same infuriating elf she had grown accustomed to. Instead of agitating her as he often did, she felt more at ease with the familiarity of his presence in these strange surroundings.

"It is the same as the proceedings around this evening; there always has to be all this pomp and circumstance surrounding everything. I could not bring you here myself, for that would perhaps have broken some cardinal law of protocol."

If Nerdanel had learned anything over the past year, it was to not interrupt when he started on a rant.

"Does it matter that our last words were spoken in anger, and perhaps I wished to make amends before I dragged you out in front of the wolves of the Noldor? No, it mattered not. All that mattered is that I am High Prince and if they could find some way to have someone else breathe for me, I would not have even that to do for myself."

Nerdanel had heard him rant on many subjects in the past: the inefficiency of shipping routes when a new load of metal or fuel was late, the lack of availability of good wood for carving near enough to her father's house, even that one time when he went down to the harbour and came back in a snit because they would not let him watch how they crafted their ships, claiming he would distract the shipbuilders with his attempts to change – improve upon, if you asked him – their process. But never had she heard him complain about his station in life; she had no idea he was so unhappy with it, and was somewhat startled that he would be this open with her now.

"I have two hands and I am capable – more so than some of the half wits they have working around here – of doing for myself. Of course, this kind of idle lifestyle probably suits…"

A blaring fanfare interrupted his angry diatribe and he glared in the direction of the sound, as if the trumpeter was conspiring against him as well. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes, the scowl did not leave his face but he extended his arm formally to Nerdanel.

"Very well, then. Shall we?"

She took his arm and glanced up at his face, but he was staring straight ahead so she did the same. He led her through another archway on the opposite side of the courtyard that opened into yet another courtyard, even larger than the one they had just left. Instead of trees and a wall lining the perimeter, there were fourteen large white columns encircling the courtyard, each carved with the physical form of one of the Valar. Where the circle of columns ended stood the steps to the palace, great marble slabs leading up to oak doors, carved in an intricate pattern of triangles and diamonds. There was one other distinct difference between this courtyard and the last: this one was filled with elves.

The elves stepped aside to create a path for them. Nerdanel felt their eyes on her: watching, judging. Fëanor led her through the crowd towards the steps of the palace and it was only then that she realized two elves stood there. She had never seen either of them before, but judging by the one's golden hair and the other's strong resemblance to Fëanor, she guessed who they were.

Fëanor walked with Nerdanel up the steps and came to stand before his father. He presented Nerdanel to Finwë and, remembering lessons she had when she was a young elfling – lessons that at the time she never thought she would have the occasion to use – Nerdanel curtsied in front of the king and queen of the Noldor. Indis formally inclined her head to Nerdanel, as did Finwë, but he also winked encouragingly at her.

Releasing her arm, Fëanor clasped his father's forearm in a traditional greeting. Finwë grasped Fëanor's as well, but then pulled his son into an embrace, which, judging by the uncomfortable look Indis shot them out of the corner of her eye, was _not_ conventional.

When Finwë released him, Fëanor turned to stand to the right of his father. With a smile and an inclination of his head, Finwë indicated to Nerdanel to go stand next to Fëanor. She walked over, a little miffed that Fëanor had just left her out there, and a little embarrassed that the king of the Noldor caught her gaffe. She belatedly realized that although she had curtsied to Indis, Fëanor had completely snubbed his stepmother.

She looked at him through the periphery of her vision, but he was once again staring straight ahead. Realizing that the time had come for her to have to face the large crowd of elves gathered before them, she bit her lip and turned to face the courtyard.

There were so many elves! Nerdanel's heart began to race as she looked at them all, standing there, staring up at her. From where she stood, she could make out features – faces she did not recognize – of the elves closest to the steps, but beyond that, it was just a sea of anonymous heads. She glanced again up at Fëanor and saw that he was watching her. With a bare twitch of a smile, he held his right arm out to her again. She gratefully took his offered arm and he placed his left hand over hers. It was the first affectionate gesture he had shown her all night but when she looked back up at his face he was no longer looking at her. She wasn't sure what was more disconcerting, acting so familiarly with him, or doing so in front of all of Tirion.

At that moment, some elves brought out goblets of wine for the four of them standing on the steps. Nerdanel took the glass and, following the others' lead, held it out towards the crowd as Finwë spoke.

"To the elves of Tirion and all those who have come from afar to join in our celebration. May Varda light your way; may Manwë speed your journeys; and may the blessings of Eru Ilúvatar be with you through all of your endeavours."

"_A Eru, lalta te_!" The cry of returned blessing went up from the crowd gathered in front of them. Finwë raised his cup higher. When Nerdanel saw him drink from it, she tipped her cup to her lips as well.

With the formality of blessing completed, the musicians assembled on the left side of the courtyard struck up a lively dance. The crowd pushed to either side of the square as some elves took partners and began to dance. The silver light cast shadows across the floor making it shimmer like water, giving the scene a certain ethereal quality. It was as if the dancers' feet skimmed the top of a lake instead of skipped across hard marble.

Fëanor extended his arm again and without a word, Nerdanel took it. She was still too overwhelmed to react to him as she normally would. He inclined his head to his father, who returned the gesture, and then led Nerdanel down the steps to stand in front of the first large column next to the steps to the palace. Nerdanel noticed the wide berth the other elves gave to them. They stood alone, the nearest elf being several steps away from them. Whether out of fear or respect, she did not know.

As they stood in silence, Nerdanel searched the crowd for her mother or father. She easily spotted Aulë, the only Vala in attendance in bodily form at the moment, and from him found her parents. She was not able to keep them in her sights long, for as the music continued, more and more elves joined those already on the floor.

Without any other distraction, Nerdanel became increasingly aware of the attention, mostly female, that was directed at them. Although Fëanor maintained an aloof posture, that did not stop certain of the girls from swinging their partner close to him and trying to catch his eye, even though they danced with another. When this had happened several times, proving to Nerdanel that he needed not have asked her if he did not wish to attend the festival alone, she looked up at his stony face.

"I was surprised when I received your invitation."

Without looking at her, Fëanor inclined his head across the floor. She followed his gaze to where an elf, whose face bore strong resemblance to Fëanor's but whose hair was the blond of the Vanyar, stood talking with a _quendi_ who was obviously Telerin.

"My half brother saw fit to invite my usual guest." His annoyance was plain in his voice. He screwed his features into a grimace which made him look like he smelled something unfavourable. "The Noldorin girls would tear me to shreds should I attend the festival alone."

Nerdanel felt her whole body tense. "So I was a safe alternative."

Fëanor didn't answer and Nerdanel pulled her arm out of his and folded it with the other one across her chest. Hurt, she tried to ignore him and watched the dancing for a while, but did not miss his narrowed eyes glaring down at her. After a while the music changed and Fëanor placed his right hand under her elbow nearest him.

"Dance with me."

It was more of a command than a request. Nerdanel allowed him to lead her out through the opening the elves made for them. It was a dance Nerdanel was familiar with, but when they reached the middle of the square, she hesitated. She knew she was supposed to place her one hand on his shoulder and take his hand with the other, but she suddenly felt very nervous about touching him like that, and in front of all these people. Before tonight, she never realized just how close you had to be to someone to dance with them.

Fëanor took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder and she felt his right hand on her shoulder blade. He grabbed her other hand and they begin to dance. The dance was one of intricate footwork where partners were changed often. She spent the entire time she was dancing with Fëanor staring straight ahead at his neck lest she misstep. She tried to ignore the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the pressure of his hand on her back and the way he still smelled like forge though he had probably not been in one for several days.

She kept glancing at him as she was swung from elf to elf around the floor. As she watched him dance with one girl after another, her agitation built. It did not matter that he looked completely annoyed regardless of how elated his partner seemed. All that mattered was that he had invited Nerdanel only out of necessity and, adding insult to injury, had asked her to dance when he did not actually desire to dance with _her_. She neared him on the floor and made a quick decision. Swallowing hard, she looked up at her partner.

"I need a break." She tried to pull away but her partner resisted and she caught him glance at where she had last seen Fëanor, a nervous expression on his face. Using his distraction, she took a step back, escaping his grasp.

"I can come with you," he offered, once again looking over his shoulder.

"No!" Nerdanel said quickly, and then softened it with a smile. "No, thank you." She just wanted to get away from all this: the festival, the dancing, and the strange elves she didn't know. The last thing she wanted was to bring part of it with her. She waved quickly at her partner and ran off the floor.

She wanted to find her parents but knew that with the whirling dancers it would be near impossible. The East Courtyard, she remembered, had been deserted when she met Fëanor earlier that evening. She found her way back there and breathed a sigh of relief; it was still empty. The quiet and the soothing shadows were be a balm for her nerves and, taking a few deep cleansing breaths; she slowed her heart and tried to figure out what to do next.

Before she could devise a plan, she felt a hand on her shoulder and, thinking it was Fëanor, spun on him with a scowl on her face and a finger stretched out towards him. The elf that stood in front of her was most definitely not Fëanor, though they shared many similar physical characteristics. His hair was long and dark, though only braided instead of bearing the intricate design that Fëanor's did. Their eyes were similar in colour but this elf's lacked the burning emotion that most often alighted in Fëanor's. Their features bore resemblance to each other, though Fëanor's were sharper; this elf's face had a softer line to it.

"I…I thought you were someone else…" Nerdanel stammered, smiling in apology for her earlier angry expression.

"Disappointed?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. His voice, too, sounded like Fëanor's, only lacking the passionate edge.

"Relieved, actually." Nerdanel breathed out. "I needed to be alone for a moment." The elf smiled affably at her.

"It is a shame you are not enjoying yourself." He shook his head and then, as if an idea had just overcome him, grinned widely at her. "Be alone tomorrow. Tonight, you must dance. Come!"

He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her running through the archway. Nerdanel couldn't help but laugh. When they entered the other courtyard he pulled her straight to the throng of dancers. They were still in a pattern where partners were switched, only not as often as before. He swung her around several times before she spotted Fëanor across the floor, frowning at her.

_Let him scowl_, she thought. _He was quick enough to toss me aside_. It was time to switch and when she did, to her surprise, she found herself back in the arms of Fëanor.

He should not have been her next partner, as evidenced by several disgruntled '_heys_,' before the elves in question realized whom they were shouting at. He held her tightly and instead of dancing with her into the group, he spun her so they left the dance floor and stood almost behind one of the pillars.

"I was unaware you were on such friendly terms with my half brother." he said quietly through clenched teeth. Nerdanel recognized the fire in his eyes – a look usually followed by an enraged outburst. Why he was so angry over a dance, when they had not even been partnered with each other in the first place, she had no idea.

"I wasn't. I'm not." She folded her arms across her chest. "He asked me to dance so I did."

Fëanor grabbed her elbow and pulled her completely behind the pillar. "You leave the floor to avoid me, but you dance with _him_."

Nerdanel pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I have no reason _not_ to dance with him."

"You have _every_ reason not to dance with him!" Fëanor yelled and then looked quickly around. His next words were spoken in an angry hiss. "You are here with me. You obviously left so as not to have to dance with me, and you go and dance with my _half_ _brother_. It is a blatant insult to me, in front of every elf in Tirion. Do you know…?"

"Here with _you_?" Nerdanel interrupted, stepping in towards him. "You couldn't keep me from seeing the truth. I am only here because you could not escort the one you _really_ wished to, and because you were too _afraid_ of the girls to come alone." Thoroughly frustrated with him, Nerdanel gave him one final glare before turning her back on him to return to the main courtyard. She felt arms grab her around the waist and pull her back.

"Let go of me." she yelled as he spun her around and pressed his hands against her hips to pin her to the column. She tried to think of any means to escape him. "We should be out _there_. Dancing."

"Do not change the subject," he practically growled at her, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath. Using all her weight and strength, she shoved her body against his, pushing him away from her.

"I am _not_ changing the subject. This _is_ the subject. You think you can do whatever you wish, and it does not matter what I think, or what I want." She bit the inside of her lip against the onslaught of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

He took a step back from her and spoke in a tensely quiet voice. "What _do_ you want?"

The musicians chose that moment to take a break and in the silence, Nerdanel noticed that although they stood behind a column, a good portion of the elves could see them, and were indeed looking at them with considerable, and only thinly veiled, curiosity. Without another word, she turned and ran from Fëanor, out between the columns that stood opposite the palace and down the wide set of marble stairs there.

She heard heavy footsteps behind her, but continued to run down the steps until she heard his voice call to her.

"Nerdanel, we are not finished."

She stopped but did not turn to face him. "We _are_ finished. I have no more I wish to say to you."

He stomped down the few more steps separating them so he stood right behind her. "Most elves would not speak to me as you do." he snapped at her.

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled coldly up at him. "I am not 'most elves'."

His eyes flashed. Behind the red-hot anger that currently consumed him, she saw an emotion she could not place.

As they stood there glaring at each other, out of the corner of her eye Nerdanel saw another elf emerge from the courtyard; the elf who was the reason for this argument in the first place.

"Fëanáro, father bids me find you to inform you that the feast is about to start." His eyes narrowed in realization at Nerdanel. "So _you_ are Nerdanel; I had no idea." He bounded lightly down the remaining steps to stand next to Fëanor. "Forgive me, brother. Had I known you were her escort, I would not have overstepped my bounds. I missed the blessing, and only saw her leaving the dance floor alone." Inclining his head towards Nerdanel, he held out his hand in greeting. "I am Nolofinwë, Fëanáro's brother."

"Half-brother," Fëanor muttered under his breath.

Apparently not affected by Fëanor's cold attitude towards him, Nolofinwë grasped his shoulder. "What say you? Shall we go eat?"

Fëanor's jaw tightened and he did not look at Nolofinwë. "Very well. Inform my father I will be there shortly."

Nolofinwë nodded, and then ran back up the steps and out of sight into the courtyard. Fëanor stood rooted to his spot, glaring unfocused into the distance. Nerdanel searched his face and his eyes shifted to hers.

"So shall you accompany me?" His voice rang with challenge, but even as Nerdanel began to bristle, his expression changed completely.

"Please, Nerdanel. Let us not fight. These feasts are torment enough."

Nerdanel folded her arms across her chest and looked away from him. She felt his hand on her arm and, biting back the chills it gave her, stepped away, causing his arm to drop to his side.

"Nerdanel…"

His voice was pleading, such as she had never heard. When she looked at his face, she saw remorse in his eyes. She said nothing, waiting to see what he would say. He fidgeted for a moment before speaking.

"I am not used to sharing your company." He pressed his lips together and looked at the ground for a moment. Free of his gaze her eyes grew wide as her mind raced to process what he just said. The possibility that his anger had been spurred on by jealousy had not occurred to Nerdanel until that moment.

He met her eyes again. "I may have overreacted." he mumbled.

She could tell how hard it had been for him to admit that. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at him.

"Perhaps a little." she assented, more tolerant now that she suspected the real reason for his actions. She smiled to take the edge off her words. "But I suppose I can forgive you, just this once."

He smiled back, relief plain on his face. He extended his arm to her one more time and she slipped hers through it. As they walked up the steps and back into the courtyard, Nerdanel couldn't help but wonder what it all meant, and try with all her might to ignore the spark of hope that had reignited within her.

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

A Eru, lalta te: O Eru, bless them. (according to Ardalambion)

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

_I could have sworn it was less than 2 months since my last post, but I guess I was wrong. Thanks for sticking in there while RL kicks my butt. Responses in my livejournal._

_Thank you **JunoMagic** and **Gwynnyd **for beta'ing this chapter and making it more shiny._


	7. Chapter Six

_She knew._

_Before Manwë's eagles sped by overhead, bearing the news to the Valar, she knew._

_Before Eärwen appeared in the doorway with tears staining her face, she knew._

_By the time her mother and father arrived at the palace and found her in her rooms, she had already changed into the simple black dress she had made for just this occasion._

"_Why black, daughter?" her father asked._

"_It is all that is left when fire goes out."_

_And that is just what had happened._

_She knew. His fire burned no longer. And she had not been there with him._

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

**S I X**

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Nerdanel could not remember a time when she had been more nervous about the simple act of eating. Her dining companions seemed to be well enough at ease, but she had to silently coach herself through every mouthful. It didn't help matters that she was sitting to the right of Fëanor; his close proximity making her even more jittery. Their temporary accord seemed to be waning, for he had not made eye contact with her a single time during dinner. She stifled a sigh and reached for her glass to take another drink of wine. Across the table, her father put his utensils down on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"This is the finest venison I have eaten in quite some time," Mahtan said appreciatively. Next to him, Istarnië nodded in agreement. "Thank you again, Finwë, for welcoming us to your table."

Finwë waved his hand, dismissing the thanks. "No need, Mahtan. You are always welcome here, as you know."

Nerdanel knew her father and the king had had many dealings in the past, but was surprised they were on such easy terms. She wondered how much of it existed previously and how much was due to the fact that she was here with Fëanáro.

An elf came by, filling Nerdanel's glass with more wine. Although she was already feeling the effects of her previous glasses, she took another large sip before returning the glass to the table. The elf moved on to fill Fëanor's glass, but he waved him on. Nerdanel was afraid she made some sort of faux pas until Finwë turned to the elf and beckoned him closer.

"You can leave that carafe with me, good sir," he said jovially. "For we have much more talking and drinking ahead of us this fine evening."

Nerdanel heard a barely perceptible groan escape Fëanor's lips as the elf walked past him and handed the carafe of wine to Finwë. She looked quickly around the table, but nobody else seemed to have heard it. Finwë poured more wine for himself and Indis, who was seated next to him, then passed the wine across the table to Nolofinwë.

Finwë held up his glass, inspecting the wine, before taking a large sip. He turned to Mahtan. "Have you taken notice of our lamps, Mahtan?" Nerdanel looked up at the perimeter of the courtyard. Sure enough, in the waning light of Telperion, intricately carved lamps were beginning to flicker to life, adding a warm glow to their vicinity.

"I was admiring them when we arrived." Nerdanel saw her father's eyes glance ever so briefly at Fëanor before returning to the king. "They are very beautifully crafted."

Finwë seemed to swell with pride. He reached out his right arm and clapped Fëanor on the back. "Fëanáro here created them when he was a mere lad of eighteen."

Fëanor smiled at his father as Finwë squeezed him in a quick but affectionate hug. His arm lingered, draped over Fëanor's shoulders and Nerdanel was taken aback by the affection between the two elves.

"That does not surprise me," Istarnië said warmly, also smiling at Fëanor. Nerdanel caught her eye and her mother gave her a sheepish grin and a little shrug. "We have seen much evidence of Fëanáro's talent in the past year."

Finwë beamed at his eldest son. He removed his arm from Fëanor's back and reached for his wine glass, holding it up in a toast.

"To Fëanáro." Everyone else at the table reached for their glasses. Nerdanel raised her glass and saw Fëanor glance back at her with a slightly uncomfortable look, but his face was suffused with pride. "May his talents and creations ever bring us joy and light."

Everyone drank, and when the glasses were returned to the table, Indis reached across the table to grasp her eldest son's hand.

"Nolofinwë is becoming quite skilled in the forge as well." Out of the corner of her eye, Nerdanel saw Fëanor's jaw clench. "I have encouraged him to work with Fëanáro on several occasions. They may learn much from one another."

Perhaps a little emboldened by the wine, perhaps afraid of Fëanor's reaction based on the steely look in his eyes, Nerdanel reached under the table and grabbed his leg. She felt it twitch under her hand, but his expression relaxed slightly and he remained silent, which he probably would not have done otherwise, considering the way Finwë was nervously watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Mother, I hardly believe there is aught Fëanáro might learn from me." Nolofinwë smiled tentatively at his half-brother, a gesture that was not returned. "He is far more skilled in the forge than I ever hope to become."

Nerdanel studied Nolofinwë's face, trying to determine if he was dissembling in order to avoid conflict or if he truly believed his words. She could not tell. His expression was inscrutable.

"Nonsense, Arakáno," Indis continued. "It is only those most arrogant who refuse to believe they have yet more to learn."

"More wine, anyone?" Finwë asked quickly, his voice slightly louder than necessary. "Feanaro?" He looked pointedly at his son. Fëanor reached below the table and took Nerdanel's hand in his. Her stomach executed a slow flip but her excitement was short lived. He removed her hand from his leg and placed it in her lap, pushed back his chair and stood up.

"No thank you, father. I have yet to pay my respects to Olwë." He looked at Nerdanel for the first time since the meal began. "If you wish to remain here…"

Nerdanel did not let him finish. She stood; placing her napkin on the table, she slipped her arm through his without a word.

Finwë stood as well, bowing slightly to his son and Nerdanel. "As it pleases you, my son." His voice was low and Nerdanel thought she heard a tinge of regret in his tone, but that could have been her imagination. As they walked away she heard her father and mother taking their leave as well. What a shame this dinner had to end in such an unpleasant way.

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

Nerdanel leaned against one of the columns circling the courtyard, slightly dizzy with that heady feeling that comes from overindulging in wine, for the drinking did not stop with the meal. They drank with Olwë, Eärwen and Arafinwë, who surprisingly did not seem to irritate Fëanor quite as much as his older brother. They drank with Aulë, always a dangerous idea, since alcohol did not seem to affect the Vala. And now, talking with her parents and watching the dancers that had re-staked their claim on the floor after the dinner tables were cleared, Nerdanel found she _still_ had a glass in her hand.

The alcohol did not seem to impair Fëanor as much as her, for he was talking animatedly with her father, discussing his plans now that he was no longer Mahtan's apprentice. Apparently, he would study with Aulë for a period, which was unprecedented for one so young, according to her father. This seemed to please Fëanor, although it did not entirely remove the dark shadow clouding his eyes since dinner.

Nerdanel felt her mother's hand on her arm and realized she was only half paying attention to the conversation going on around her. She focused on her mother.

"Nerdanel, we are returning to the apartment now."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fëanor clasp Mahtan's arm in a gesture of farewell. Mahtan grasped Fëanor's shoulder with his other hand. Fëanor then turned and bowed formally to Istarnië, who laughed at the gesture and reached up to kiss both of Fëanor's cheeks in a familiar goodbye, causing Fëanor's face to ease into a smile. Nerdanel looked from her mother to her father, trying to determine if she was expected to return with them or remain here. Her father smiled warmly at her and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Until later?" He smiled. Her parents turned and walked away towards the stairs on the other end of the courtyard. Realizing she was alone with Fëanor for the first time since before the meal, Nerdanel became suddenly nervous. She was never quite sure what to expect from him. After a few strained minutes during which Nerdanel wished she had gone with her parents, Fëanor turned to her.

"Soon my father and Indis will take their leave and go into the palace." He seemed almost disgusted. "Then we need remain here no longer."

Nerdanel pondered that a moment, wondering what the alternative was, should they no longer remain where they were. "You do not wish to dance again, do you?" she asked, remembering their last experience dancing. "For I have had my fill of food and wine – I am content to remain here."

Fëanor smiled languidly at her. His eyes were glassy in the manner of someone who had much wine.

"I have no desire to dance again." he answered flatly.

Despite herself, Nerdanel laughed and she saw the beginnings of a smile cross Fëanor's face. Deciding to press her luck, she turned to face him.

"What do you desire then?" she asked boldly.

He turned his head up towards the palace. She followed his gaze in time to see Finwë guide Indis through the large oak doors. Fëanor turned back to Nerdanel, holding his hands out to her. She took them and he led her out through the archway into the East Courtyard.

"First," he said, looking far more relaxed then he had a moment ago, "I desire to remove those horrid constraints from my hair." He grimaced and Nerdanel giggled at his frustration with his hair. "Would you help?"

She nodded and he turned from her, kneeling on the ground so she could more easily reach his head. She worked quickly, unknotting and untwisting, until his hair was completely unbound. She ran her hands through it, feeling it slip silkily through her fingers, to make sure there were no knots. She saw Feanor's shoulders tense and she quickly pulled her hands back.

Slowly, he rose from the ground and faced her.

"Many thanks," he said, almost formally, and Nerdanel remained silent, watching him, waiting for his next move.

He smiled and took both her hands in his.

"Come. There is something I wish to show you."

Before Nerdanel had a chance to react, he pulled her out of the courtyard through other archway. Still holding one of her hands, he guided her silently behind him, turning the opposite way from where she had entered.

They passed through gardens, up stairs, between walls; round and around, until she didn't think she could find her way back on her own. When they emerged from this labyrinth of stairs and hallways, Nerdanel was surprised to see they were on the roof of the palace. It too was built of white marble, surrounded by a waist high marble rail. She walked to the edge and leaned on the rail, looking down on the courtyard they had just come from. There were still a few elves down there, but mostly it was empty. The musicians were no longer playing; the party seemed to have ended after the king and queen departed.

Fëanor came to stand beside Nerdanel, leaning on the railing next to her. They stood silently, gazing off into the distance for a few moments before Fëanor spoke.

"This is what I wanted to show you." He brought his face close to hers and pointed. "Do you see them, there?"

She tilted her head slightly to look at him and realized their faces were mere inches apart. She took a breath before answering, trying to keep her voice steady despite her quickly elevating pulse.

"What should I see?"

"Over there, in the distance." As he spoke, she could feel his breath on her neck. "You can see the Trees."

Nerdanel gasped. She had travelled far and seen much in her life, but this was her first chance to actually _see_ the Trees. "I… I…" At a loss for words, Nerdanel could do nothing but stammer, shake her head and grin foolishly.

"Sometimes, on a clear day," he continued very quietly, so that Nerdanel could barely hear him, "you can see the gardens of Lorien from here."

Nerdanel looked up at him. His face was pensive, a shadow in his eyes. But as quickly as she saw it, it was gone and he was grinning down at her, mirroring her excitement from a moment ago.

"If you are here at precisely the right moment, at the exact midpoint between both Trees' zeniths, the light is a pure white as the gold and silver mingle." He sighed, obviously picturing the beauty he just described. "It only happens for a moment, and when it does, it is the most perfect, beautiful thing."

Nerdanel turned her eyes back to the Trees. He stepped closer and looked out over the distance, following her gaze, speaking in a slightly quieter, more reverent voice now, "I wish I could capture it and preserve it so it would endure for more than just a moment each day, so I could look on it whenever I wished, so others might look on it, because not everyone can see the Trees like this and perceive their Light."

Fëanor sighed. "But alas, there is no way to capture such beauty, such perfection."

Nerdanel chuckled under her breath. "If any elf can do it, it is you; for you are the most talented I have ever met."

Fëanor put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. He looked at her for a moment before speaking again.

"That means a lot, coming from you." His mouth curled into that half-smile that always gave Nerdanel chills. "When I found out I was going to be your father's pupil, I was just as excited about the chance to work next to you, for I had seen your works and admired your talent."

Nerdanel felt her face flush and turned away from him. They stood in silence for a while before Fëanor suddenly asked, "Would you like to take your hair out as well? It is pulled very tight."

Nerdanel thought about his hand gliding through her hair and how that might feel. Despite the excited flip of her stomach at the thought, she decided against it. After all, what would her parents say if she came back with her hair all unbound?

She smiled up at him. "No thank you. I'm alright."

He reached out and fingered the few tendrils that were not caught up in her hairdo. "It's a shame to keep it all pinned up. It looks like waves of copper when it falls across your shoulders."

Nerdanel bit her lip, surprised and flattered by his statement. Fëanor continued to stroke her hair.

"It is such a distinct colour."

Nerdanel snorted. "You mean an odd colour."

"No," he responded gazing right into her eyes. "I mean a _beautiful _colour." He stepped behind her, and a good thing that was, too, since her cheeks burned even hotter.

"Here," she felt his hands on her hair. "Let me."

He began to unfasten it gently and deftly. Nerdanel focused on the fine art of breathing, lest she stop. _In._ Oh, but his hands felt so good in her hair. _Out._ He ran his fingers through it, finished taking out the braids, and pulled it across her shoulders. He leaned forward to grasp the railing in front of her and she felt his arms on either side of her waist.

The heady feeling returned, though she knew it had more to do with her current situation than the wine. She felt his shoulder against her back and the front of his hip against the back of hers. Was this real, or was she dreaming? Was she really standing on the roof of the palace, looking down on the world, practically in the arms of Fëanor? She didn't dare move for anything, not wishing to wake if it was a dream.

For some inexplicable reason, she took her hands and placed them on his forearms in front of her. As if he were merely waiting for a signal from her, he removed his hands from the railing and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in against him. She tilted her head back and rested it on his shoulder and they stood like that for a while, his arms wrapped around her and her arms resting on his. She felt his lips on her hair and felt his chest expand as he inhaled deeply through his nose. She felt the warmth of his breath as he exhaled. His words, when he finally spoke, added to the surreal feeling of the moment.

"I could stay here like this forever and never regret a moment."

Although her stomach clenched excitedly when she heard that, Nerdanel could not help but giggle. "Your hands would grow restless at my sides and would long to grasp a hammer instead of my waist."

Fëanor laughed at her statement. "You know me too well, Nerdanel." He paused and continued softly, "Something not many can claim."

She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she thought his hands slid higher up her sides and he pulled her in tighter. She turned her head to look over her left shoulder at his face. He met her eyes and they smiled at each other. A small voice, coming from the part of her mind that was not addled by wine and the close proximity of Fëanor, cautioned her not to allow herself to feel what she was feeling, but it was too late. The wine had unbound her feelings; much as Fëanor had just done to her hair. She could no longer block them with anger. She could not feign indifference. She spent so much time thinking about being with him, and berating herself for it, assuring herself it would never happen. All she could do now was look up into his eyes and try not to question her good fortune.

He bent slowly towards her, and nervous excitement agitated her stomach as she realized what was about to happen. Their lips met, but he barely brushed hers with his mouth before drawing back. She opened eyes she didn't realize she had closed. She saw him searching her face, looking for her reaction. She spun in his arms, and, bolder than she ever would have been without the influence of the wine, reached up and slid her hands around his neck. Needing no further invitation, he bent back down to her and kissed her again, holding her tightly against him, his arms wrapped around her back.

The world around them ceased to exist for her. They could have been there for seconds or for all eternity, she had no idea. All too soon, the kiss ended and Nerdanel returned to the here and now. She slid her hands down to his shoulders and felt the flexed muscles underneath his thin dress tunic. Fëanor sighed.

"I have wished to do that for a long time."

Nerdanel smiled and, more confident than she ever had been in his presence, decided to tease him a little. "Then why wait to do it until tonight?"

She thought she saw a brief shadow in his eyes. "Because I depart tomorrow for Aulë's and…"

Nerdanel did not let him finish. "You _depart_?" She pushed him away from her and took a step back. How convenient for him that he was leaving after tonight.

"Nerdanel…" He held a hand out towards her imploringly, but she ignored it. Trying to blink back the burning feeling behind her eyes that threatened to unleash a waterfall of tears, she took another step away from him.

"I must have forgotten myself for a moment." She swallowed hard, fighting to retain her composure. "The night grows late. I should return to my parents."

Fëanor clenched his jaw and he glared at Nerdanel with a stony look in his eyes. Finally he spoke.

"Very well."

He turned to walk away; back down the steps they had come up, obviously expecting her to follow. Before she could, he paused and looked back over his shoulder just enough so she could hear his words.

"Perhaps it is for the best we will not see each other again."

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

_Thank you __**JunoMagic**__, my ever-indulgent beta._


	8. Chapter Seven

_He had not wished to accompany her on this journey. But as her eldest son he felt it was his obligation. Their relationship, once cozy and warm, had grown cold as of late. Thus conversation had ceased between them as soon as the horses had settled into a gallop. Perhaps that was what this journey was about – her last ditch attempt to restore her life to what it once was._

_As they approached the garden, he saw the listless body. Beautiful, she was, with a sad expression on her face. Never before had he set eyes on his paternal grandmother._

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

**S E V E N**

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

It was not going to be easy. Nerdanel knew that from the time she told her father she wished to accompany him. This was the first time Mahtan had travelled to Aulë's forge since the festival in Tirion. Several seasons had passed since that night – the longest she had not seen or spoken to Fëanor since they met – and she had much time to replay the events, plenty of opportunity to rethink and regret her words. What would have happened had she stayed and let the evening unfold? She would never know. Yet one more encounter with him still lay before her.

The ride was amiable, but quiet. She was deep in thought the entire journey, considering the words she would use, trying to anticipate his every possible reaction. Her father remained silent as well, either he was also lost in his thoughts or he could read her mood and chose to let her be.

Mahtan dismounted and she did the same. Only now that they walked their horses to the large stable on the edge of the ring of buildings did he speak to her.

"You are sure of what you want to do?"

"Yes, father." Nerdanel was sure; she just had to steel herself to do it. "I have to make amends with Fëanáro, to apologize."

Her father pressed his lips into a thin line. Although he had been fond of Fëanor as his pupil, something had changed in the interim. He never spoke ill of Fëanor, and was always a good listener when Nerdanel came to him, but she could not shake the feeling that he was satisfied that she appeared no longer to wish to pursue anything other than a cordial working relationship with the young smith. When she had asked to come with him, he was hesitant at first, but when she assured him she no longer felt aught towards Fëanor, he assented to let her join him.

Mahtan clasped her shoulder. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me – with Aulë in the main forge."

Nerdanel smiled grimly. "I cannot change my mind. Our paths are sure to cross again." A hint of worry crossed her father's face but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "We are, after all, both smiths. I need to ensure there will not be any animosity in any future dealings we may have."

Mahtan held her gaze a long moment before squeezing and releasing her shoulder. "If that is your wish, I bid you the best of luck." He pressed his lips together again, turned, and walked towards the largest of the buildings. Nerdanel took a deep breath, hoped for the best, and made for the building she knew to be the forge Aulë provided for his pupils.

The scene that greeted her when she crossed the threshold was not one she had expected. She stood gaping, unnoticed. He had eyes for naught but his work. He moved with a fluid grace, the muscles across his back rippled with every swing of the hammer. Nerdanel's reaction to seeing him again, and shirtless at that, caught her off guard; she thought the long seasons away from him had served to cool her feelings. She felt her cheeks flush and her pulse race as she continued to watch him move from the anvil to the fire and back with an ease that spoke of natural talent as well as much practice.

She broke away from the scene in front of her, spinning around. Once outside, she leaned back against the wall next to the doorway. She wiped a hand against her inexplicably damp forehead. _From the heat of the forge,_ she told herself. _For I no longer feel aught for him_. Taking deep calming breaths, she turned once more and tentatively stepped into the doorway again.

This was not good! Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she remembered how those muscles felt beneath her hands one Tree-lit night not all that long ago. What was it about him that unravelled every shred of control she had fought so hard to gain over her emotions? She took several breaths to calm herself for – racing heart or not – she needed to make amends before she left. And she could not allow herself to continue to react this strongly to him. With one final deep breath she stepped fully into the forge.

"Greetings…" He whirled around and her breath caught in her throat. _So much for self control._ He pressed his lips together quickly, but his features betrayed that she had startled him. He walked toward her, discarding his gloves and grabbing a towel off a table on the way to wipe the sweat off his brow.

She found she was unable to move or speak and silently berated herself for her lack of poise. Thankfully he did not appear to notice, so she resigned herself to stand mutely where she was.

"Nerdanel. I did not expect to see you here." She struggled not to let the coolness of his voice affect her and to ignore how he brushed the towel across his bare chest. "What brings you to this place?"

He stood in front of her now. Leaning towards her, he reached around her. Nerdanel felt the heat of his body despite the temperature of the forge and she let out a gasp. She saw his brows furrow as he looked at her and regretted that little slip.

His arm came back into view, grasping his shirt which had apparently been on the table behind her. As he slipped it over his head, she had a brief respite from his stony gaze. She looked at the ground and tried desperately to compose herself.

After a moment she raised her head, figuring it must be safe now that he was fully clothed, Unfortunately, his shirt was damp, clinging to his chest, the outline of his muscles still clearly visible. She dragged her gaze further up to his face. To her dismay, his eyes were narrowed with realization. His expression turned into an amused smirk.

She waited for him to say something but he just stood there with that smug look on his face, making an apology very difficult.

"I came to apologize, but I ought not to have. I do not know why I thought it a good idea to see you again," she spat before turning on her heel and storming out. She only made it a few steps out the door before she felt a hand on her arm, spinning her around. Captured in his steely glare, she did not struggle as he pushed her back against the cool stone wall of the building.

"Why do you always feign to despise me so?" Although his gaze was intense, it was only curious, not angry, which surprised Nerdanel, considering the temper she knew he possessed. He did not release her arm, but he did not hold it in a way that would hurt her.

"How do you know those are not my true feelings?"

Fëanor favoured her with a haughty half smile. "I can feel your pulse race beneath my hand. Not to mention how you …"

"I must return," Nerdanel interrupted, not wanting to hear him list the ways he saw through her carefully constructed mask of irritation. "My father will wonder what happened to me." She hoped mention of her father would deter him.

"Your father …" he mused, taking a step closer to her. "Is it for his benefit you attempt to mask your desire?" He leaned down to speak into her ear. "What would he say then, should he see us here?"

Nerdanel looked at the ground next to her. With his free hand Fëanor turned her chin so she had to look at him.

"What would he say were I to kiss you again?"

Angry at his bold advances and how his behaviour so completely unnerved her, she pulled out of his grasp and backed closer against the wall, and as far away from him as she could. "He would demand you release me," she replied hoarsely.

Undeterred, he pulled back just a little and cocked his head to one side. "Would _you_ have me release you?" Nerdanel, feeling incapable of answering, remained silent. Fëanor let go of her arm but did not step away from her. In fact, he leaned closer. "There. You are free," he spoke quietly, his breath hot on her neck. "Go." He tilted his head so he could look in her eyes. "If you wish it, go."

Nerdanel stared at him, unable to move. Part of her screamed at herself to deny her feelings and leave, but she remained rooted to the spot. After a moment when she did not respond, he placed his hands against the wall on either side of her.

"Your father thinks I am a good student, and a talented smith." He raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps that is enough persuade him to allow me a union with his daughter."

Nerdanel's mouth opened in shock at his words. "But I thought …"

"How could you not know I desire you?" he interrupted, shaking his head as he studied her face. "I can barely contain myself when I look upon you."

Nerdanel could not believe what he said. Terrified, thrilled and bewildered, she shook her head. "You merely want what you have not had."

"I have not had any. It is only you I desire."

Her stomach jumped and her breath caught at his words, but she continued to fight, though her voice was weaker. "What you _cannot_ have, then."

"Can I not?" He stepped closer to her, their bodies now almost touching. "Deny me again and I might believe you."

Nerdanel knew she was trembling and hoped beyond hope that he could not see it.

"You should have gone," he continued, a warning note to his voice.

"Should I have?" she asked, her voice breathy to her ears. She swallowed to try and ease her parched mouth.

"If you do not desire me as much as I ache for you; if you truly are not disguising hidden longing with anger and frustration, then yes, you should have gone."

Neither of them moved nor spoke, their eyes locked with each other's. Finally, Nerdanel summoned all her courage.

"I am still here." Even though Fëanor had laid his feelings bare before her, this was still the nearest she could bring herself to admitting how she felt for him, having fought and denied it for so long.

He moved even closer so his lips were next to her ear when he whispered, "Never claim you were not warned." Before she could respond, she felt his mouth on her neck. Tingling warmth flooded her. She tilted her head back to allow him more access. As he trailed hot lingering kisses from behind her ear down to her collarbone, her stomach clenched and her heart pounded. Convinced her legs would give out at any moment, she grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He pulled away and caught her gaze. Nerdanel realized what she must look like; her breath coming in gasps and her head thrown back against the wall. He must be able to see the desire in her eyes, but it was beyond her to do anything about it at the moment.

"I need you, Nerdanel."

He bent down to her and she hungrily met his mouth with hers. As they kissed, he reached behind her, and, grabbing the back of her thighs just below her buttocks, lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her back into the forge, their mouths never separating. He sat her on the table, only breaking apart so he could remove his shirt once more. As she placed her hands on his chest, he found her mouth again. One hand pulled her hair from the loose knot, while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him.

The sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway startled Nerdanel and if her legs hadn't been wrapped around Fëanor, she would have fallen off the table. Fëanor did not seem taken by surprise, but merely annoyed as he narrowed his eyes and slowly turned to the door. Nerdanel felt her cheeks flush when her eyes met those of the elf standing there.

"_Atar_!" she gasped. Unhurriedly, Fëanor backed away from her and she slid off the table. "I didn't expect you to be finished with Aulë so soon."

"Obviously." Mahtan's voice was not cold or disapproving, but Nerdanel wondered whether or not he condoned what he found here. As he walked towards her he inclined his head to acknowledge Fëanor.

"Fëanáro," he said coolly.

"Master Mahtan," Fëanor responded in the same manner. Mahtan gave him an inscrutable look before turning back to his daughter.

"Aulë wishes to speak with you as well."

Nerdanel glanced at Fëanor. His face did not reveal anything. "Of course." And then, slightly quieter so that only her father might hear, "Please give me a moment."

Mahtan eyed her warily, but consented with a nod. He gave Fëanor one more hard look before turning and walking out of the forge.

They both stood rooted to the ground. Finally, Fëanor walked over to the table where his shirt lay and retrieved it. As he went to put it back where it had been when Nerdanel entered, his eyes met hers.

"You are staying the night as a guest of Aulë?"

Nerdanel's stomach flipped, anticipating the intent behind the question.

"I am," she answered, hearing the waver in her voice.

"Good." She saw a flicker of a smile cross Fëanor's face. "If you can …" He paused as he tossed the shirt on the table. "If you _wish_, meet me back here once everyone has retired for the evening." He walked over, leaned in and awkwardly kissed her cheek. Without further word, he returned to his work.

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

What a long day, Nerdanel thought as she lay in her bed that evening, listening to the sounds coming in her window from the surrounding halls, heralding the end of the work-day. Much had been accomplished, but it had been difficult for Nerdanel to focus on any task asked of her, as her mind had continually drifted to this moment, when all the other elves retired for the evening, when she was to go back and see Fëanor again.

She was surprised not to run into him the rest of the day, but apparently he stayed mostly in his forge and none of her tasks had brought her close to that building. Even at dinner, when she hoped to see him in Aulë's halls for the evening meal, she was disappointed by his absence. When she asked Aulë if he was expected, Aulë had laughed his thunder bellow of a belly laugh.

"Fëanáro does not often take meals with us, unless it is required of him."

Her father had chuckled. "Too much time away from the forge? Food too much of a distraction from his work?"

When Nerdanel pointed out that Fëanor had always taken meals when he was a student of her father, Aulë and Mahtan exchanged the barest of glances before Mahtan had raised a knowing eyebrow at her. She knew what he was implying – that she was the reason – but was still not sure whether or not she agreed.

The sounds outside her window had died down and Nerdanel slipped quietly from her bed. She had debated whether to tell her father of her plans for the evening – she had never been one for sneaking around – but in the end decided against it. She didn't want her father to worry about her, and if he knew that she was with Fëanor, he most likely would.

She walked through the halls and out across the courtyard to the only forge that still flickered with firelight. She wondered if his was always the last lit, or if it was only because he was waiting for her. She chuckled to herself as she closed the last of the distance to the stone building. His was probably always the last lit.

He must have heard her coming for suddenly he appeared in the doorway. He wore a simple tunic and pants, and his hair was still pulled back into the tight plait he always wore in the forge. Yet standing in the doorway, framed by the firelight from within, Nerdanel was struck again with just how beautiful he was. She stopped walking and he came out to meet her, a warm smile on his face.

"Nerdanel, I am glad you came."

Taking her hands, he bent down and gently kissed her mouth. It was meant to be a greeting, but when he pulled away from her, she saw in his eyes what that simple kiss had done to him. For a long moment they stood, faces almost touching, before Fëanor took a step back. Nerdanel inhaled deeply to try and calm herself. She noticed that Fëanor did the same.

He smiled at her again, once more composed. "Come, let us walk. There are things I wish you to see."

Nerdanel glanced at the forge, where the fire flickered brightly inside. "But the fire…"

His response confirmed her earlier thoughts. "If I put it out, others might get suspicious as to why I am not working. No, it is safely contained. It will be all right."

Holding fast onto one of her hands, he guided her with the other to the path that led behind the forge and into the woods that surrounded the halls of Aulë. They walked in silence, which gave Nerdanel plenty of opportunity to turn frantic with the thoughts racing through her mind. Where was he taking her? What were his intentions? For that matter, what were _her_ intentions, having come here tonight?

She received an answer soon enough. After they had walked up the path into the woods a ways, Fëanor stopped and drew her close to him.

"This is the first I wish for you to see." Fëanor pulled from a pocket in his tunic a silver necklace with a simple white pendant attached. "This I made for Indis."

Nerdanel was shocked. "_Indis_?"

Fëanor chuckled. "Yes, Indis." He sighed deeply. "I have had much time here, alone ..." He broke off and shook his head. "I love my father, and she is his wife. Despite my feelings for her, I am aware she makes him happy." He shrugged. "After long thought I decided to make an effort not to detest her completely."

Nerdanel was not sure how to respond. They stood in silence for a moment before he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

"Come, I must show you the gem in the starlight."

She ran after him – in his obvious excitement, he had lengthened his strides to a near-race – to a clearing in the woods. He turned around and held the necklace up for her to see once more. Nerdanel gasped. In the bright starlight the necklace was completely transformed. The pendant, which had been a colourless white, now blazed with blue and silver fire. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Oh…" She reached for the stone. Fëanor handed it to her and watched intently as she turned it over, making the jewel sparkle in different hues of silver and blue. "Oh, it's beautiful!" Regretfully, she handed the necklace back to him. "I have never seen the like."

Fëanor beamed. "No, you wouldn't have. There is only one other like it and as I have only recently crafted them both, you are the first to see either of them."

Nerdanel was still enraptured by gem, so it took a moment for his words to sink in.

"You _crafted_ it?" Fëanor nodded, a broad smile still on his face. "Do you mean to tell me that this gem … you _made_ it?"

Fëanor reached into his pocket. "I made this as well." He pressed his lips into a thin line and pulled his hand, clenched in a fist, out of his pocket. He extended his hand towards Nerdanel and opened it. In his palm was a silver ring with another of the fire stones set in it.

"This one is for you," he whispered.

Nerdanel stared at him. Words failed her. Fëanor took a step towards her.

"Do you know," he asked quietly, "how _difficult_ it was to craft this without Aulë knowing?"

He took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. He held her hand in his and the ring burned in silver fire, but Nerdanel could not look at anything but Fëanor. Finally, she responded to the only thing her mind was capable of processing at that point.

"Why did you not wish Aulë to know?" Her voice sounded raspy and she swallowed to try and ease the dryness in her mouth.

He let go of her hand and placed his hands on either side of her face. "I wanted you to be the first to know of my intentions."

She put her hands over his for a moment, but then she took a step back and shook her head. His hands dropped to his sides and she held hers out in front of her, towards him.

"Fëanáro, we are so young."

He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. "I do not wish to wait any longer." He pulled her to him so their bodies were almost touching. "If it were my choice, I would wed you right now." He chuckled. "However, it is _not_ my choice, since were I to do so, I am sure both of our fathers would tear me limb from limb."

She laughed, for despite the rapid beating of her heart and the surreal nature of the scene, she knew he was right. He let go of her hands and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing her against him.

"I cannot wait to have you as my wife."

He bent to kiss her, but before he could, she put her hands against his chest and managed to push him away.

"Fëanáro, _wait_."

"No!" he cried, his voice urgent, pleading. "I do not _wish_ to wait." He grabbed her hands again. "Do you not understand? I..." He shook his head and looked up at the sky. He let go off her hands and began to pace back and forth, holding his head with his left hand. When he spun around to face her, he held both hands out towards her imploringly. "I have never met … There is nobody else who can … Oh…" He groaned in frustration and came back to her.

Nerdanel was amazed, for she had never seen him have such difficulty putting his thoughts into words. Usually he was beyond eloquent, even when he was furious. In fact, the times he was angry often led to his most poetic moments, though she would never be able to share his profound vulgarity in polite company.

Of course, Nerdanel was struggling for words herself. So much that she was perfectly content to wait and hear what Fëanor would eventually be able to say. She held on to her amusement at his discomfiture; it eased her nerves and calmed her own anxiety.

He reached for her hands again, speaking quietly.

"You are amazing, and smart, and talented, and in you I have found a kindred spirit." He took a deep breath. "Before I met you, my life's joy was creating. And I still find joy in it," he continued quickly, "but it is empty if I cannot share my creations with you." He took another breath. "If I cannot share _everything_ with you."

He squeezed her hands and pulled her closer.

"I love you, Nerdanel." He gazed at her silently then, searching her face. She felt her hands trembling inside his, but could not find words. She stood mutely for several moments before Fëanor spoke again. "Please say something."

Nerdanel inhaled deeply and hoped her voice would not betray how nervous she felt. "I know not what to say."

Fëanor's brows furrowed and he let go of her hands. A look of such worry seemed foreign on his face, a face that bore so often an expression best described as arrogant, or at least, intense, especially when he was working.

"No, _wait_." She wrapped her hands around his upper arms to emphasize her words. The ring sparkled in blue fire but did not distract Nerdanel from the thoughts she wanted to voice. "That first day you came to my father's forge I was upset that you had been untruthful, but even more than that I was hit with disappointment that there was no chance for anything between us." The worried expression on his face began to melt away. Nervous at finally admitting to her feelings, she continued. "I spent a whole year working side by side with you, fighting how I felt and denying to myself that I was falling in love with you." She felt a tear wet her cheek. "I never thought for a moment I would be here."

She stopped. Another tear slid unbidden down her face. Fëanor reached again into his pocket and when he pulled his hand out, she saw it held another ring, this one plain silver. He held it to her and, swallowing against the lump in her throat, she took it. He reached up to hold her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

With a trembling hand, she reached up and removed Fëanor's left hand from her face. Her hands were shaking so hard she was not sure she'd be able to get the silver band on his finger, but somehow she managed. When she looked up at him, she saw that he, too, had tears in his eyes.

"I love you, Fëanáro." She smiled through her tears. "And I do not wish to wait either."

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

_From __The Silmarillion – Chapter 6: Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor: "The first gems that Fëanor_ _made were white and colourless, but being set under starlight they would blaze with blue and silver fires brighter than Helluin"_


	9. Chapter Eight

_She worked the clay with unusually clumsy fingers. It may as well have been mud tonight. The darkness that she knew consumed her husband prevented her from concentrating on her work and it suffered – as did her marriage, her family – everything._

_She flung a piece against the wall, the effort not quelling the anger welling inside her. She left the relative safety of her workshop, the room that had been her refuge as of late. Before retiring to bed, she glared resentfully do__wn the hall at the locked door._

_So his secrets would keep him from her yet another night._

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

**E I G H T  
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**ooooooooOoooooooo**

Nerdanel sat on a stool in the main room of the apartment her parents kept in Tirion, her pottery wheel motionless between her legs as she contemplated the lump of clay in front of her. She had told her parents she was going into the city ahead of them in order for some time alone to sculpt and had hoped to have something to show them when they arrived later, but she could not focus or decide on a form.

She picked up the clay and threw it down on the wheel a few times, stalling, thinking, examining the shapeless hunk. She heard footsteps approaching from behind her but did not turn, not even when she felt the heat of a breath on her neck or the moist warmth of kisses trailed down to her shoulder.

Smiling, she spun on her stool to face the elf who now stood behind her.

"Did I wake you?" she asked gently.

"Mmm, no," Fëanor answered, bending to brush her lips with his. "But I thought to give you peace to create."

"So what brings you out here?"

Fëanor knelt down and leaned towards her, putting a possessive hand on her leg. "I grew impatient."

Nerdanel laughed and tried to push his advance away with her elbows, her hands still covered in clay. "Stop!" she protested. "I need something to show my parents when they get here, or they will wonder at what has occupied my time for the past week."

Fëanor frowned and raised one eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "What _has_ occupied your time and distracted you so?"

She pressed her lips together and widened her eyes in mock innocence. "I do not know."

Fëanor made a low guttural noise and before Nerdanel could react had scooped her up into his arms.

"Allow me to remind you," he said, his voice low and suggestive, as he stood and began to walk towards the sleeping room. He hadn't gone far when he abruptly stopped and spun to face the entrance of the apartment. Nerdanel heard what had startled him, voices approaching outside, and slipped easily down out of his arms to stand once more on the floor.

"…and thought to visit since I heard you were in the city," Fëanor said, overly loud, his intention clearly to be overheard by whoever was approaching.

"I appreciate your consideration," Nerdanel answered in the same manner, meeting his gaze and smiling at their ruse.

The voices outside grew dimmer. It hadn't been her parents, for the elves had passed the apartment and continued on. Nerdanel inhaled deeply and sat down on the stool again while Fëanor began to pace the room.

When he stopped in front of Nerdanel, she saw the set of his jaw and how his eyes flashed and knew he was as unsettled by the though of having been discovered by her parents as she had been.

"Tonight, Nerdanel," he said softly, his voice at odds with his wild expression. "Tonight we tell them."

Nerdanel's heart beat faster. "My parents?"

Fëanor nodded, his eyes burning with passion. "Your parents, my father, the entirety of Arda. I want the world to know that Nerdanel, daughter of Mahtan and Fëanáro, son of Finwë are one soul, bound together until the breaking of the world, and if I had the power to make it so, even after."

Nerdanel was silent, rendered speechless as she always was when Fëanor openly declared his feelings for her.

"I could barely tolerate this past season," he continued, resuming his pacing. "Whenever we…" He stopped walking and cocked his head towards the doorway. Nerdanel heard it too, more voices, and as they grew closer she recognized them both.

She noticed Fëanor take a few steps backwards as she ran toward the door to greet her parents.

"Father!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "Mother!" She repeated the exuberant embrace, hoping her enthusiasm would distract her parents from noticing the other inhabitant of the room for a moment longer. She had no such luck.

"Fëanáro!" Mahtan's voice betrayed his surprise at finding his old apprentice in his apartment. His eyes flicked towards Nerdanel before he crossed the room to clasp Fëanor's arm in greeting. "Need I ask what brings you here this day? Or can I assume it has to do with my daughter?"

Mahtan's face was suffused with a bright smile, but Nerdanel caught the edge in his tone. Fëanor must have heard it, too; almost imperceptibly his eyes narrowed at his old master, nothing more than a glimmer of annoyance that would have gone unnoticed to anyone who was not so attuned to his mercurial moods, but Nerdanel caught it and took a step towards him and her father.

Her mother grabbed her arm and stayed her movement, forcing Nerdanel to watch whatever unfolded, helpless to interfere. However, it came to nothing; Fëanor tilted his head back and laughed, but to Nerdanel it had a false ring to it.

"Of course, Master Mahtan, it has to do with your daughter, and yourself, and Istarnië as well."

His response took Nerdanel by surprise, but she was able to school her expression before either of her parents noticed. Fëanor looked to her and her pulse skipped as their eyes met. She pulled her arm from her mother's grip, lest Istarnië feel Nerdanel's elevated heart rate. Not that it mattered, Nerdanel realized belatedly. Istarnië would most likely attribute it to Nerdanel's continued attraction to Fëanor and not the fact that the two of them had spent the past week in the apartment together.

"I came to invite you to dine with us tonight."

By the expression on her parents' faces, Nerdanel knew his statement had surprised them as much as it had her.

"Dine?" She smiled a little too wide, hoping her expression would disguise how her voice wavered. "Tonight?"

Fëanor inclined his head, slipping into an air of formality, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. He had heard her voice tremble, she was sure of it. "My father returns to the city tonight, and I am to dine with him." He turned to her father. "He always enjoys your company, Master Mahtan, so when I heard you would be in Tirion, I thought you might like to join us."

Nerdanel saw her parents exchange a glance before Mahtan narrowed his eyes at Fëanor.

"Of course, Fëanáro," Istarnië answered before her husband could speak, crossing the room to stand by Mahtan and leaving Nerdanel alone by the door. "We would be delighted." She put a hand on Mahtan's arm.

Her actions confirmed Nerdanel's fears, that Mahtan was troubled by the presence of Fëanor here. Was it concern for his daughter's welfare, or something more ominous than that? Nerdanel halted her train of thought. Mahtan was merely looking out for his daughter's well-being, knowing how she had been upset by Fëanor in the past. But that would be resolved tonight – over the evening meal, apparently – when Fëanor and she spoke of their intentions to wed.

"Very good," Fëanor answered and seemed to Nerdanel to be genuinely relieved. "Then I will take my leave of you now, Mahtan, Istarnië." He inclined his head politely to each of them before turning and walking towards the door and Nerdanel.

"Until later, Nerdanel," he said, the expression on his face innocent, the look in his eyes anything but. Shielding her parents' view of his hand's movement with his body, Fëanor reached up and tweaked the chain at the back of her neck, causing the ring hanging beneath her tunic to twitch against her chest.

She stared after him for a short while, trying to invent a good excuse to follow him and coming up with none, especially since she still had clay stuck to her hands, now beginning to dry and cake between her fingers and under her nails. Keeping her eyes downcast, she walked back over to the potter's wheel and poked at the clay rising up like a deformed mountain. She doubted it could be salvaged, even if she had the inclination to get back to work immediately.

With a reluctant sigh, she hazarded a glance at her parents. Both Mahtan's and Istarnië's expressions remained neutral, but Nerdanel still felt like an errant child, caught in a disobedient act by parents who remained silent long enough to allow her to confess her own transgression. She dropped her eyes to the clay again and realized she probably just confirmed her own guilt.

"I'll clean this up," she said quietly.

"Good idea," Istarnië said, her voice gentle.

Nerdanel picked up the lump of clay, carried it outside, and deposited it on a stool. She would determine how best to dispose of it later. She walked down the hill towards the water pump on the next street to wash her hands. It took her a long time since she forgot to bring a bucket and had to pump with one hand as she tried to wash the other. When she finally returned to the apartment, Laurelin was already beginning to dim. It wouldn't be long until dinner.

She reached the doorway and was surprised to hear Fëanor talking with her father. She couldn't see Fëanor's face – his back was to her – but judging by the troubled look her father wore, they weren't discussing the weather.

"That is my opinion, Fëanáro, and there is naught you can say that will sway me," her father said before noticing that she stood in the doorway.

"Nerdanel," he called, his voice sounding far too relieved for a greeting. Fëanáro spun to face her, and when she saw his stony expression she involuntarily stepped back, pressing herself against the doorframe.

With one last glance at Fëanor, Mahtan crossed the room to her. Before he could say anything, Fëanor stormed past out the door. Nerdanel looked from him to her father and turned her hands up, silently questioning what had happened.

"He told me of your intentions," Mahtan said quietly. Nerdanel surmised the rest, considering Fëanor's reaction and ran out the door after him, her father calling her name behind her. She caught up with Fëanor not too far from the house.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to get him to meet her eyes.

"He does not approve," Fëanor said through gritted teeth.

Nerdanel frowned, but put a comforting hand on his arm. "He said that?"

Fëanor glared at her. "Do you not believe me?"

"No, I do…" She shook her head. It made no sense for her father not to approve and especially not to tell Fëanor.

"I will _make_ him approve," Fëanor said to himself, his eyes almost black. "I must."

Nerdanel placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face so he had to look at her. "He does approve; and if not, he will," she said, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible. "Let us go back and talk to him together."

Fëanor inhaled, and Nerdanel felt his face relax beneath her hand. He seemed like he was about to relent, but his eyes flicked up to look at something behind Nerdanel. When she turned her head, she saw her father behind them, a worried look on his face. She turned back to Fëanor.

"Go to your father," Fëanor whispered so only she might hear. "I will return shortly." He tilted his face into her palm and kissed her wrist before jogging away, down the street into the increasingly silver light.

Her hand remained in the air where it was for a moment, silently reaching towards where it had felt that last contact. Nerdanel took a few breaths to try and regain her composure before she walked over to where her father was standing. When she reached him, she folded her arms across her chest but did not speak. Mahtan remained silent as well until Nerdanel, her anger at her father's obvious and unfair disapproval growing and adding to the worry about what Fëanor ran off to do, could no longer hold her tongue.

"Why?" It was the only thought she could verbalize, but it didn't even begin to reveal the questions raging through her head.

"I know not what he told you," Mahtan began, his voice a forced calm. "But I only said you should wait."

That surprised Nerdanel and cooled some of her agitation. From Fëanor's reaction, she had expected that her father had flat out said no.

"So you do not disapprove?"

Mahtan sighed. "I could disapprove of the ocean's tide, but what good would it do me? Some things will happen regardless of what we say or do."

Nerdanel felt her eyes begin to burn. She knew what her father meant – she and Fëanor did not by law need acceptance or approval from anyone – but it was important to her that he supported her choice. Knowing her parents did not agree with what she was doing would hurt more than anything.

"Father," Nerdanel's voice sounded strange, choked, and she swallowed. "I want you and Mother to support this. I want you to be happy for me."

Mahtan put a hand on her shoulder and guided her back towards the apartment. "I worry for you, and so does your mother. We fear you might end up being consumed by him. Perhaps if you were older…"

"No!" Nerdanel said forcefully and then softened her voice. "Father, please. I love him, and he loves me."

Mahtan stopped walking at the door to the apartment and turned to face Nerdanel. He searched her eyes for a long moment and then sighed.

"You both are very young." He sighed again. "But if you are happy, if this is what you truly want, then I can accept it."

Nerdanel wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed his attitude towards Fëanor from when he had been her father's apprentice, but Mahtan walked into the apartment then, and Nerdanel knew the conversation was over.

She was in the side room working on a quilt with her mother when Fëanor returned. She heard him calling her father's name and dropped her work to slip quietly to the doorway, curious to see what would happen.

As soon as Mahtan came out of the back room, Fëanor handed him what looked like his hammer wrapped up in a cloth.

"I hope this might change your mind," Fëanor said. His voice was soft, but Nerdanel could see the intensity of his gaze, the tenseness in his shoulders that told her he was anything but calm.

A side of Mahtan's mouth twitched, a smile tugging at it. "Fëanáro, you give me a hammer and apron in exchange for my daughter?"

Mahtan's voice had a teasing quality that put Nerdanel at ease. If he were able to joke, especially when Fëanor was in such a severe mood, did that mean he had come to accept their betrothal?

"No, Master Mahtan," Fëanor replied, his mood unchanged by Mahtan's droll question. "I give you my passion for your daughter. I would give up my life's work for her hand, for no work of my hand will touch my heart and soul as she has."

Nerdanel felt her insides clench, and she could barely remain standing still. She blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She knew how he felt, he had told her countless times, but to hear him tell her father, to hear him speak so vehemently about how much she meant to him to one of her parents, it made her want to jump up and sing in joy. The feeling was so powerful it was almost indescribable.

"He certainly is eloquent," a voice whispered at Nerdanel's ear, and she jumped, not having heard her mother come up behind her. "I'll give him that."

Nerdanel glanced at her mother, but before she could respond her father spoke again and she turned back towards him and Fëanor.

"I did not say 'no,' Fëanáro," Mahtan said, his voice placating. "I merely said, 'wait'." Fëanor opened his mouth to respond, and Mahtan held up a hand. "I have spoken to my daughter. I know of both of your feelings, and I give you my blessing."

Even though Nerdanel already knew her father had accepted their decision, their commitment to each other despite their youth, hearing him speak it out loud, to tell Fëanor that they had his blessing, she didn't think she could be happier if Aulë himself had come in and told her she was the most talented sculptor to ever shape a lump of clay. She ran to her father and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him as hard as she could.

"Thank you," she whispered so only he would hear.

"Be happy, my little Nerdanel," Mahtan answered, hugging her back. When he released her she looked into Fëanor's eyes and knew that she never would be anything but.

**ooooooooOoooooooo**

_Thank you, as always, to JunoMagic, for a thorough and thought-provoking beta. This chapter was meh, at best, before she challenged me to make it better._


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